


Bite

by Rae_Roberts



Series: Werewolves AU [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Gratuitous Smut, Knotting, M/M, Male Slash, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae_Roberts/pseuds/Rae_Roberts
Summary: After his brother Sam's death, Dean withdraws, becoming a fanatical hunter with nothing left to lose.  Then a spell gone wrong transports him to a world of werewolves.   Finished story;  will be posted in installments, updates on Werewolf Wednesdays.Warnings:  I wrote this story as an exercise to try and overcome my reluctance to write smut.   There is raunchy, filthy, gratuitous smut in every chapter.   Because of a magical cursed heat, there is a rape scene:  trigger warning posted at the beginning of that chapter.





	1. Bite

Some things never changed. The grout between the shower tiles was black with mildew and the water pressure was barely strong enough to produce a trickle. At least the water was nice and hot. Dean Winchester was going to look on the bright side, here. He’d been sucked into a parallel universe, some sort of sick, alternate reality where about a tenth of the population were infected with lycanthropy. Before he’d fully gotten his bearings he’d been bitten by a rogue werewolf and infected, too. 

At least he’d found his brother Sam, or rather, his not-brother Sam. In this universe Sam Winchester, demon-blood-tainted ‘special child’, was Sam Winchester, pure-blood ‘alpha wolf’. Talk about a kick in the teeth. All in all, though, Dean had to admit his alternate-reality monster of a not-brother seemed to be a decent guy, still saving people, hunting things… Carrying on the family business. Dean looked over his shoulder, gingerly probing the claw marks that raked across his upper back. The deep gashes, along with the vicious bite torn into his left trapezius, were already well on their way to being completely healed. Proof that he was a monster, now, too. At least the wounds had stopped hurting like a son of a bitch. ...Looking on the bright side. 

He lazily soaped his body, taking in the other changes, subtle but unmistakable. The rough life of a hunter had always kept him fit, but unlike Sam’s health-nut, demon-blood-enhanced physique, Dean’s muscles had always been less defined, less showy, the kind that resulted from hard labor instead of bodybuilding. And although he’d never have admitted it, a life-long diet of greasy burgers, beer, and slabs of pie had taken their toll around his midsection. He wasn’t fat by any means, but his belly was comfortably rounded. Or had been, until the werewolf bite. Now he was sporting a six-pack. 

Werewolf-Sam hadn’t mentioned that side effect. He hadn’t mentioned a couple of things, like the inch or more of length he’d gained to his cock. Not that he’d been under-endowed before, he thought with a smirk, but now he had the proportions to get a job starring in porn. He fisted the base of it, giving it a firm stroke under the warm drizzle of the shower. Thick and veined, it leapt to full hardness in an instant at the attention. 

Dean stroked himself again and then again, keeping his fist loose with an effort, teasing his eager cock with a slow, light touch. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the werewolf bite had done more than just bulk up his muscles and lengthen his cock. He had to bite his lip to stop a moan of pure delirium from bursting out and cueing Sam in to what his not-brother was up to in the shower. His cock—hell, his whole body—was ultra-sensitive. Each droplet of water flowing over his skin was a caress, each touch of his fingers gripped around his aching cock threatening to drag another low, desperate growl from his throat. 

He gripped harder, stroking faster, setting a rhythm that his hips insisted on echoing. Dean braced his palm flat against the grungy shower tiles, fingers splayed, his pelvis rocking with each tug on his cock. His mind wandered in a haze of lust and Dean found himself wishing for a one-night stand, or at least something to grind up against. He bit back a chuckle at that. Damn it, he was as horny as a teenager jacking off for the first time.   
Dragging his fist up the length of his shaft yet again, he stroked his thumb over the tip, tracing a lazy circle around the head. It took all his considerable control not to come right then and there, the head of his cock so sensitive he had to forcibly stifle another moan. Of course, being Dean, he had to do it again, and again, slicking the head of his cock with pre-cum, overwhelming his body with pleasure until his vision damned near blacked out. He angled his body under the shower, letting the water flow over his chest and newly-sculpted belly, parting around the base of his cock and dripping off his balls, each droplet leaving an incredible trail of sensation along its path. 

The motel hot-water heater was giving out, the drizzle turning chill, but it didn’t dampen his cock’s rowdy enthusiasm the least bit. Dean pumped it faster, damned near biting through his lower lip to try and hold in his body’s involuntary growls and moans, wanting the haze of hot, eager pleasure to never end. It was a losing battle. His leg muscles tightened almost painfully, heat pooling low in his belly and tension gathering in his balls, building and building until his orgasm hit him with the force of a tidal wave. Dean fell against the wall of the shower stall, riding it out as best he could, his fist still stroking and tugging jerkily, stars swimming in his vision as his cock pulsed endlessly in his grip. 

He came back to full awareness after what seemed like much longer than ever before, still breathing heavily as if he’d just sprinted a mile, the cold water raising goosebumps across his chest and shoulders, his cock still half-hard in his hand. Dean shook his head to clear the last after-images of the white-hot stars from behind his closed eyelids. He felt a blush paint his cheeks as he realized he’d yelled aloud at the end. Served Sam right for not warning him, he thought with an embarrassed chuckle, and gingerly moved to rinse the cum off his now-tender cock. 

Weird. Apparently, Dean thought, bemused, werewolves shot blanks. Who knew? He turned off the frigid water, grateful for the warmth of the thin, scratchy motel towel, and got dressed hastily. He’d taken a hell of a long time in the shower. Fortunately, Sam was gone when he emerged from the bathroom. The big werewolf returned a few minutes later, grocery bags in hand. Dean took in the sight of him, the broad-shouldered, six-foot-five frame and shaggy brown hair that were so achingly familiar, the golden eyes and oversized canine teeth that made it clear that this man wasn’t his brother. 

The bitch-face was the same no matter what universe it was. “Dude. Some ground rules,” Sam said, pulling a spray bottle of air freshener out of one of the plastic bags and spritzing the room ostentatiously. “I get that you’ve got needs, but not when I’m in the room, okay?”

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “I’ve been kind of stressed, you know?” In spite of his embarrassment, Dean couldn’t help but chuckle as the tough-looking hunter fussed, revealing the prissy side of his personality Dean doubted anyone else ever got to see. “Seriously, man, I was in the shower. Do you really need to empty the whole bottle?” he groused after a minute.

“Pheromones,” Sam said succinctly. “You’re going to have a way better sense of smell than a normal human, once the next full moon rolls around and you change.” He sighed. “I don’t know if you not really being my brother makes this more or less awkward.” He finally set the bottle of air freshener aside. 

“Sorry,” Dean repeated. “It won’t happen again.”

Sam sighed again, louder this time, and turned to unpack the plastic bags, unloading a six-pack of beer and assorted containers of snack food onto the table. “Um, it probably will. Werewolves tend to have a strong sex drive,” he murmured, carefully avoiding Dean’s gaze.

“I noticed,” Dean said dryly. “Not that there was anything wrong with my sex drive before,” he couldn’t help but quip with an unrepentant grin.

Sam groaned. “You’re so much like my brother Dean… I don’t know whether to hug you or punch you in the face, jerk.” 

His voice broke just a little, reminding Dean that his not-brother’s real brother, this universe’s real Dean, had failed to survive his own werewolf attack a year ago. Just as his own, real Sam back in his own universe had failed to survive the latest insanity the Winchesters had gotten themselves caught up in. Blinking back the lump that formed in his own throat, he stepped close enough to give the taller man a roughly affectionate pat on the back. 

 

“We’re just going to have to find ourselves a couple of cute waitresses and bang their brains out.”


	2. Ring

“So those waitresses you want to bang? Might want to rethink that,” Sam said dryly as they left the diner. 

Dean still looked like an average human, having something like twenty-five days left before the full moon transformation, but Sam had been born with the lycanthropy mutation. The hunter’s golden eyes and prominent, fang-like canine teeth made it impossible to hide what he was, and their reception at the diner proved his kind was barely tolerated in the small town.

“You know, we were making progress. Policing ourselves, hunting down rogues. People were gradually getting less bigoted, less fearful.” Sam shrugged. “That all ended with the Dark Moon Brotherhood.”  


“These are the douchebags that are kidnapping local women and turning them?”

“Among other things, yeah.” As they walked down the sidewalk to Sam’s not-Baby, a gleaming black ‘69 Ford Mustang he’d inherited from this universe’s Dean, Sam said quietly, “You don’t have to help out on this hunt. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind the company, but this isn’t your world. The kidnappings aren’t your problem.” 

“Yeah, well, we don’t have any leads just yet on how to get me back home,” Dean said gruffly. “May as well work the job.” 

Over the next several hours they made good progress on the hunt for the Dark Moon Brotherhood, making Dean painfully aware of how much he’d missed working with his brother during the past, lonely year since his own, real Sammy’s death. It was late afternoon when their efforts yielded an address for a remote farm where they suspected the kidnapped local girls were being held. 

“I’m telling you, Sam, nobody in town knows me and I still look human. I can get a look at the place on a pretext, you know, traveling salesman or meter reader or something.” 

“I don’t like the idea of you going up against these guys alone,” Sam countered. “The Dark Moon Brotherhood are ruthless—”

“I won’t be going up against them,” Dean insisted, “just checking out the location. I’ll be back before you know it...”

…

“...You just picked it up?” Sam’s expression made it clear he thought Dean had lost his mind. “You see an obvious cursed item, just lying out on a table, and you picked it up and put it on?”

“Of course not. I’m not an idiot,” Dean groused. “I took precautions. I wrapped it in a bandanna.” Obviously the precautions hadn’t worked, judging by the cursed silver ring now firmly stuck on the fourth finger of his left hand, but he wasn’t about to admit anything to Sam.

“Dean! You need a Hand of Glory to pick up a cursed item!” 

“Hand of Glory? Isn’t that a candle made out of a dead thief’s hand, used for…” Dean’s voice trailed off at the look his not-brother gave him. Things apparently worked very differently in this world. “So, how do I get it off?” 

“I don’t know.” Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m going to have to do some research.” He grabbed his jacket and headed for the motel room door.

“Your laptop’s right here,” Dean pointed out, moving to block the agitated werewolf’s exit. 

Sam glowered at him. “I can’t even be in the same room with you right now, Dean.”

“What the hell? I make one stupid mistake and you’re acting like I brought on the apocalypse?” Dean demanded, taken aback at Sam’s overreaction.

“You don’t get it. I can’t be around you because that ring is starting to affect me, too.” Sam groaned. “Another minute and I’ll be wearing the other half.” 

Dean saw that Sam’s hands were clenched into fists. His brow was beaded with sweat. Sam’s next words came out in a deep, intimidating growl. “Get out of the way before I hurt you.” 

He raised his hands in a placating gesture and stepped back. “All right, all right. Call me if you find out anything.” 

The door slammed behind Sam hard enough to rattle the frame. Dean sat down on the bed as reaction set in. The cursed item had obviously been left as a trap, and he’d walked right into it. Even without the dull ache of the silver contacting his skin, the ring sat awkwardly on his finger. Formed of two interconnected loops, the second loop stuck out over his palm, apparently waiting for another finger to slip through it. Dean tugged at it, not for the first time, but it didn’t budge, though he could twist it around so the second loop protruded over his knuckles. 

He sighed and lay back on the bed, restless and in growing pain from the silver pressing against his skin. As strange as that felt, his body’s reaction was even stranger. Ever since he’d put the item on he’d been trying to ignore a raging hard-on. Not exactly easy when every sense seemed to be heightened by the twin curses of his lycanthropy and the ring. Now Dean palmed his hand over the bulge in his jeans, feeling instant relief as he squeezed his cock through the worn denim. 

Well, Sam wasn’t here to be offended by the scent of his pheromones or whatever, he thought philosophically, and unbuttoned his fly, pushing down his jeans and the boxers beneath far enough to free his erection. Dean palmed himself again, pressing the ring against the underside of his cock and sliding it up the length of his shaft. The silver tingled, leaving a trail of heat that lingered, mingled pain and pleasure. Son of a bitch, this universe was turning him into one kinky bastard, but damned if the throbbing ache that had been spreading up his forearm from the cursed ring hadn’t gone away. 

Dean stroked the ring up the shaft of his cock again, making it twitch and leak pre-cum, letting out an involuntary hiss at the burn of the silver. He stopped just long enough to turn the ring around so the second loop jutted up over his knuckles, leaving his hand free to fist tightly around his rigid cock and tug. He quickly fell into a satisfying rhythm, stroking that incredible, sensitive length again and again, rolling his hips to thrust into his fist at the end of each pass. 

His back arched as his climax gathered, his heels digging into the mattress as his balls tightened and desperate, wanton noises spilled from his throat. It just wasn’t possible, he thought wildly, for jacking off in a dingy motel room to feel like the best sex of his life. Dean came with a loud shout, rock-hard cock throbbing, those white-hot stars obscuring his vision for long minutes of pure ecstasy. 

Like before, it seemed to take an endless time for his pulse and respiration to slow back to normal, for his cock to stop pulsing out its release. And like before, the evidence of that release was surprisingly little compared to the mind-blowing sensations of his orgasm, just a smear of clear fluid puddled on his belly. Dean rubbed it away with his palm and pulled his jeans back up. His cock was still half-hard, another oddity of his new physiognomy. He shook his head, bemused. How could he feel like he’d just fucked his brains out and not be fully satiated? 

And now the damned ring was hurting again, a throbbing ache that would soon spread to the rest of his hand and up his arm. Dean sighed heavily. It was going to be a long night.


	3. Rape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Please be advised, as the title implies this chapter contains a graphic rape scene.

Sam came back after midnight, his expression worried, every line of his body radiating tension. “Did you get the text I sent you?”

Dean cradled his throbbing arm against his chest. “Yeah, but I’m going to have to get a phone from this universe, man. The link you sent was gibberish.”

“You didn’t look up the link?” The big hunter ran his hands through his hair. “Oh my god… Tell me you at least did some research on how to get through a heat.” 

“What the hell?” The searing pain in his hand and arm—not to mention the persistent ache of his needy cock—made Dean short-tempered. “Son of a bitch, I’m not a bitch. I’m not in heat.” His scowl faded into a look of worry. “Do guy werewolves go into heat?”

“Not normally, but you’re under a curse. It's compelling you to seek a mate.” Sam’s golden eyes raked over his body, making Dean’s face flush at the naked desire in the werewolf’s gaze. He prowled across the room, running a hand through his hair again, letting out a little involuntary whimper of distress that chilled Dean to his core. “Oh my god, Dean, this is bad.”

His cock sprang erect as the werewolf paced. Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the ripple of muscles where the shoulders of Sam’s plaid shirt stretched taut, the tight contours of his faded denim jeans molded to his ass. He shook his head, denying the attraction. This was his brother, for god’s sake! But then Sam turned, showing those inhuman eyes, and Dean’s cock gave a restless twitch. _This_ Sam was definitely not his brother. 

“All right,” he said firmly, coming to a decision. Dean reached for his jacket where it hung on the back of a chair, and pulled his knife out of the pocket. “This ring is coming off, one way or another.” He braced himself, placing the sharp blade against the base of his finger. 

“No!” Sam launched himself across the room, grabbing Dean’s arms. “Dean, don’t! That’s a good way to get us both killed! It’s too late, even if we could get your finger amputated safely. You’re already affected; the curse has taken hold.” 

Dean winced at the pain from Sam’s fingers digging into his aching forearm. He dropped the knife onto the seat of the chair and put his hand on Sam’s chest, forcefully pushing the taller man away. He didn’t like that lustful look in the man’s eyes or the way his own body reacted to Sam’s proximity.

“So what’s going to happen?” he demanded, though the squirm of apprehension in his belly hinted that he already knew the answer.

“You’re in heat.” Sam stepped back in, too close for comfort as he loomed over Dean. “A cursed heat, thanks to that damned ring. You don’t mate, and soon... You die. Horribly.” He shook his head, an oddly canine gesture, as if trying to clear it. “I’m amazed you aren’t screaming in agony already, actually.” 

Dean shrugged. “It hurts like a bitch,” he admitted.

“Let’s take care of that, Dean.” Sam’s voice was husky as he reached for Dean’s shirt, easing it down off his shoulders.

“Whoa!” He reeled back, pushing Sam’s hands away. “Can’t we just go pick up a couple of chicks, or...Hell, call me up a hooker or something?” 

The werewolf’s laugh was tinged with hysteria. “You poor bastard. Maybe if you’d known enough to stay away from me once you put that ring on you could have found a mate of your own choosing.” He loomed in again, as if Dean was a magnet and Sam couldn’t resist his pull. His eyes glowed. “But that trap wasn’t meant for you so much as it was for me,” he growled. He grabbed Dean’s shirt in both hands and ripped it off his body. 

“Back off,” Dean barked, scooping up the knife and brandishing it at the half-crazed werewolf. “Don’t make me hurt you, Sam—”

Sam batted the knife out of his hand with negligent grace. “Don’t make me hurt _you_ , Dean. In fact, here, let me help you…” Dean stood frozen as Sam reached for his hand and slipped his finger into the second loop of the cursed ring. They stood for a long moment, palm pressed against palm, and the agony receded to a faint, dull ache. The two coils of the ring detached and Sam dropped his hand to Dean’s crotch and started working the buttons of his fly open.

“Whoa,” he yelped again, knocking the chair over as he struggled to back away, but Sam’s big hands gripped both sides of his half-opened fly and tore, shredding the worn denim like paper. “This is going to happen,” he husked, leaning in to nuzzle against Dean’s neck, his lips brushing against the fading bite marks.

Dean scrambled back again, tripping as the torn remnants of his jeans tangled around his boots. “Come on, Sam, fight it,” he pleaded. “Control yourself. You don’t want to do this.” 

“Oh, but see, that’s the problem. I do.” Sam backed off, but only to strip his shirt off over his shoulders. He barked out a humorless laugh as he toed off his boots and fumbled open the fly of his own jeans. “And you do, too. Just look at you,” Sam breathed, his voice warm with approval. His eyes raked over Dean’s erection poking out of the fly of his boxers. 

“Hell, no!” Dean denied the obvious, trying to pull his shredded jeans back up to cover himself, but forced to give it up as hopeless. He struggled out of his boots so he could kick away the tangle of denim. “I’m telling you, Sam, back off before I shoot you.” He retreated to the far side of the room.

“Yeah? But your gun’s back there in your pants.” Sam stalked toward him, gloriously naked now, reminding Dean all too much of a predator stalking its prey. For a moment he saw regret flicker in those golden eyes. “I’m sorry, man. This isn’t what I would have chosen for either of us,” he murmured, but then the moment had passed and Sam pounced, bowling Dean onto the nearest bed and tearing away his t-shirt and boxers. 

Dean fought back, but this universe’s Sam was a werewolf, with all the superhuman strength that entailed, and Dean was still mostly human, still weeks away from his first transformation. After a brief struggle he found himself on his knees on the mattress with Sam’s cock bumping insistently against his ass cheeks. “Sam, no,” he pleaded, hating himself for the tremor of fear in his voice but unable to stop it from slipping out. 

Sam worked a knee between his legs, widening Dean’s stance and spreading his ass. One big hand gripped his hip, holding him in place while the other lined his cock up snug against the crack of Dean’s virgin ass. For a long, drawn-out moment the bigger man rutted against him, his cock sliding between Dean’s ass cheeks, slicking them with pre-cum, and Dean dared to hope that Sam was too far gone in his lust to do anything more. 

Dean yelped again as he felt that big cock line up with his tight, virgin hole. No such luck. Sam gripped both his hips tight, rocking his pelvis against Dean’s ass, growling low in his throat as he moved slowly, almost gently against him. Dean felt a lump forming in his throat, tears of shame gathering behind his eyelids as Sam humped him like a dog and his own cock stiffened even more in response, arching against his belly. He felt something warm and wet probing at his ass and realized dimly that Sam was doing his best to hold back, making a clumsy effort to prep him, barely pressing the tip of his cock against him as it leaked thick, clear strands of pre-cum.

Sam nuzzled at his shoulder again, murmuring something that might have been endearment or apology before sinking his fangs into Dean's partially-healed bite wounds and slamming his cock into Dean’s ass at the same instant. 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean growled out a protest, oddly grateful for the pain in his shoulder that momentarily distracted from the pain elsewhere. Hellhound, vampire, rugaru… In Dean’s long hunting career he’d been bitten dozens of times. He could take a bite like a champ, but then Sam thrust deeper into his ass and he screamed at the red-hot agony tearing him in two. 

Dean fought against the relentless hammering of Sam’s cock, desperately trying to scramble away across the mattress, to land a punch, to get a grip somewhere on the bigger man’s body that would hurt him and make him stop, but nothing worked. Sam’s fingers dug into his hips, dragging him back onto his thick, rock-hard cock as he drove it deeper and deeper still into Dean’s virgin ass. Dean howled, giving vent to his hurt and shame as tears streamed down his face. 

Sam finally stopped after what felt like hours, hauling Dean upright to lean against his broad chest as they knelt, bodies melded together. Sam splayed one hand over Dean’s tight belly, pressing him back against him, his other hand, the one with the cursed silver ring, still gripping his hip possessively. He leaned forward, his hair falling over the side of Dean’s face, and nuzzled against his neck. Dean felt the rough rasp of stubble against the raw, torn flesh of his shoulder, followed by a wet, oddly soothing caress, and realized Sam was lapping at the fresh bite he’d inflicted. 

He wanted to jerk away from the animalistic caress, to slap Sam’s hands off his body, but his ass felt like it had been ripped in two and Dean couldn’t muster up the strength to fight any more. His thighs trembled, muscles weak with reaction. Sam’s cock was buried so deep inside him, Dean was sure if he looked down he’d see the outline of the head of it poking out of his abdomen. He leaned back against his not-brother—and thank whatever absent god or fallen angel this universe possessed that this Sam was not his brother—and tried to hold himself as still as possible. 

Sam murmured something incoherent that sounded deeply satisfied and Dean felt fresh tears roll down his face as the werewolf started to move inside him again. “No,” Dean whispered, but his cock arched against his belly, twitching and aching with need, and somewhere deep inside him, past the humiliation and the pain, he felt himself submit.


	4. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised, this chapter continues a graphic rape scene.

Dean lay back against Sam’s broad chest, his head tipped to loll against Sam’s shoulder, his ass split open on Sam’s cock rammed balls-deep within him. He could just barely hold it together with Sam keeping still inside him, but all too soon the big alpha’s fingers tightened on his hips and he began to move, setting a slow pace that was still too much for Dean to take. He couldn’t stop the whimper that tore from his throat as that big, needy cock shifted restlessly inside him, stretching his ass wide open.

 

Sam pulled out just far enough to give Dean a moment of relief before sliding back in, sheathing his cock in Dean’s ass with a deep groan of satisfaction. Internal muscles that Dean had never had to consider before tensed involuntarily, flexing around Sam’s cock as it pulled out again, dragging a moan from Sam’s lips as Dean’s abused, virgin hole caressed his shaft. Another blessed moment of relief, and then Sam was thrusting back inside him, filling him so full he didn’t know how he could take it, a sob of utter defeat bursting from Dean’s chest as the realization set in that this torment wasn’t going to end anytime soon. 

Sam pulled out yet again and Dean’s ass tightened in response, his own traitorous body straining to keep that thick cock lodged firmly inside him. Sam thrust back in and Dean’s chest heaved, panting as he tried to keep his muscles relaxed, willing them to accept the intrusion without resistance. As much as Dean wanted to rebel, he had to admit that if he didn’t fight back it didn’t hurt nearly as much when Sam sheathed himself to the hilt. 

Tears of anger and embarrassment slid down Dean’s cheeks as Sam growled his approval, his cock twitching as Dean’s ass fluttered and tensed around it. “So good, baby… It feels so good,” he moaned, and Dean’s belly tightened, heat flooding him at the praise even as he hated the way his muscles’ involuntary spasms were pleasuring Sam’s cock, entirely against his will. He didn’t want the big alpha to enjoy this, but it was obvious from his delirious whimpers and growls that Dean was driving Sam wild. Dean’s own traitorous cock twitched with every wanton sound that tore from Sam’s throat, riding high and tight against Dean’s belly, rock-hard and aching with desire. 

Sam pulled out and thrust in, out and in, keeping up that slow, languid rhythm, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back. Dean realized the alpha was trying hard to minimize his discomfort, and he felt a rush of gratitude even as his belly twisted with fury and shame. 

“Want you to like it, too,” Sam muttered brokenly, dipping his head to kiss and lick the bite marks on the side of Dean’s neck again. 

Dean barked out a humorless laugh. “Not going to happen, Sam,” he growled, the low, angry sound abruptly breaking off into a high-pitched yelp as Sam reached around and fisted his cock in a big, calloused hand. Desperate moans of pleasure tore from Dean’s throat as Sam expertly stroked his cock, his hand keeping up the same lazy rhythm as his own cock slowly fucking in and out of Dean’s helplessly quivering ass. 

Sam’s chest was slick with sweat, his whole body trembling as he fought to maintain control. Dean felt overwhelmed by the unlikely care and consideration Sam was trying to give him, even as he was forcibly taking him against his will. He could feel his climax building in spite of his pain and humiliation, his balls tightening, his cock responding eagerly to every firm tug of Sam’s hand, slicked with his own pre-cum. 

Dean threw back his head and whimpered as Sam’s cock twitched deep inside him, the thick shaft growing impossibly harder as Sam teased himself closer to completion with every agonizingly slow, controlled stroke. Dean’s hips bucked, ass clenching around Sam’s cock as he tried to pick up the pace, desperate now for release. Sam let out a dark, wicked chuckle that made Dean’s belly tighten, and gripped his hip to hold him still. 

"Not yet."

His body was overwhelmed with sensation as Sam delayed their climax. Dean whined and squirmed, utterly submissive now, every muscle tensing and fluttering around Sam’s cock as his own cock twitched helplessly in Sam’s fist. Sam’s rhythm finally faltered as his orgasm could no longer be denied. His teeth sank into Dean’s shoulder again as his cock rammed home, filling Dean’s ass completely as he came. Dean’s cock pulsed its own phantom release into Sam’s hand and he yelled out the big alpha’s name as his vision blacked out. 

“ _Sam!_ ”

“I’ve got you, baby.” Sam’s cock gave another stuttering thrust before it finally stilled. “It’s okay...I’ve got you.”


	5. Finished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: this chapter contains non-consensual sex.

Sam’s hands dropped from Dean’s hips to rest on his thighs. Dean shuddered as Sam’s cock finally stilled inside him. At last, this damned ordeal was over. His legs trembled with reaction as he rose up, relieved to be able to slip that big, still-hard cock out of his tormented ass. 

It slid out several inches and then stuck. Dean tugged, rocking his pelvis forward. A whine slipped from his throat as Sam’s cock stayed stubbornly lodged inside his ass. He rocked his pelvis forward again, tugging harder, wincing as Sam’s cock resisted, putting enough pressure on his ass to cause him fresh pain. Behind him, Sam hissed and Dean felt the big alpha’s muscles tense. Clearly his efforts to pull free were hurting Sam, too. 

Good, Dean thought rebelliously. 

“Something else you didn’t get around to telling me, Sam?”

“Um...I really didn’t get a chance to tell you much of anything,” Sam mumbled apologetically.

Dean hung his head, scrubbing a hand over his face, wiping away tears. “Get the hell out of my ass,” he growled. 

“I… I’m sorry, Dean. I can’t.” 

“Right. Which brings us back to that something else you didn’t get around to telling me, Sam?”

“My cock is knotted inside you. We’re tied together for the, um, duration,” Sam murmured, sheepish. 

Dean sighed heavily, resisting the urge to howl in frustration. “How long is the, um, duration?” he said, mocking Sam’s hesitant tone.

“Well, that’s kind of up to you.” 

Sam’s hand closed around Dean’s hyper-sensitive cock again and Dean couldn’t stop a humiliating yelp of surprise. He was still half-erect and rapidly becoming fully hard as Sam stroked him possessively. Dean realized with dismay that Sam’s cock hilted inside of him was still rock-hard too. 

“Don’t touch me,” he muttered, but his hand fell away from Sam’s wrist when the big hunter ran his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock, sending stars reeling in his vision. “What’s happening to me? What the fuck do I do?” he whimpered. 

“Finish me,” Sam groaned into his neck. The werewolf couldn’t seem to keep away from the torn and bitten flesh of his shoulder, licking and sucking at the tender flesh. “Make me come… Please, Dean.” 

He was hurting and aroused all at the same time. Sam’s hand dropped to cup his balls, leaving his cock aching for more attention, still rock-hard even though he’d just climaxed only minutes before. The werewolf’s fangs scraped over his half-healed bites, making Dean shudder with mingled pain and pleasure. “Son of a _bitch_. You just came.” His laugh was tinged with hysteria. “Believe me, I felt you come.” 

“Yeah, you know, I felt it too,” Sam chuckled. Dean could hear the smirk in his voice, but then he growled and thrust into him savagely. “But that was just the first time, baby.” Dean’s ass clenched involuntarily and a frantic whine tore from Sam’s throat. “Oh yeah, that’s it… That’s it, right there… Finish me!” 

The desperation in Sam’s voice compelled Dean to obey. Scarcely knowing what he was doing, he tightened and released around Sam’s cock. Dean’s balls drew up and tightened as Sam fondled them and his hips began to thrust, stroking Sam’s cock as his muscles fluttered around it. Astonishingly, Dean felt another climax starting to build. 

“Oh, god, Dean… Yes!” Sam moaned, and Dean felt his body clamp tight around Sam’s cock as it finally pumped a hot load of cum into his ass. 

Dean reached the point of no return as Sam’s climax shook him, thrusting back against the big alpha as his own cock twitched and pulsed. Dean’s orgasm seemed to last an eternity, his body trembling and his vision going black as Sam’s climax shook them both to the core. 

Dean drifted back to reality with Sam’s relentlessly hard cock still balls-deep in his ass. Enough was enough, he decided, and pulled away, letting out a desperate whimper as he met with that same resistance. Sam’s cock was still knotted inside him, tying them together. He bit back a pitiful sound that was half laugh, half sob, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through his body. How long was this going to go on? Even as Dean thought he couldn’t take any more, his body convulsed with pleasure so intense he saw stars again and his cock arched, still eager for more. His ass was raw, every nerve hyper-sensitive, but Sam’s cock gave its own needy twitch, a demand for attention that couldn't be denied. 

This time, Dean knew what to do. He thrust back against the big werewolf, groaning as Sam’s cock stretched his tender, abused hole wide open, filling him completely. Dean clamped his ass down around it, gripping it as tightly as he could manage until his strength gave out and his muscles released. He drew in a shuddering breath and clamped down again, determined to milk every last drop of cum out of his not-brother’s monster cock and finish this.

“So good… So good, Dean, oh my god, you’re so good,” Sam growled. He reached for Dean’s aching cock, stroking it gently, somehow knowing the exact touch Dean needed. Dean ground his ass back against Sam’s hips, taking in every last inch of his cock until he was sure if he looked down he’d see the outline of the head poking out of his belly, working his sore, tender ass around the shaft. Clamp and release, clamp and release, until he felt Sam’s whole body tense and his cock pulsed with jet after jet of cum. Sam howled and whined and thrust into Dean until he screamed, but his hand never stopped stroking Dean’s cock until it too found its release, pulsing over and over again until it fell completely limp at last, utterly satiated. 

Sam’s cock finally slipped out of Dean’s raw, abused ass. He toppled over onto the bed, dragging Dean down with him to spoon against him. The last thing Dean felt was Sam’s arm wrapped around his middle, hauling his body in tight, one big hand dropping down to cup his balls possessively. Dean wanted to protest, to push Sam’s hands away, but he decided he was too exhausted and spent to care. Within seconds he was passed out, sound asleep.


	6. Grind

Shower time was becoming Dean’s time to take stock of life in this new, weird universe he’d been thrown into. In the plus column this morning, he’d already survived two attempts on his life. First the werewolf attack, and then the cursed ring that had forced him and Sam to mate or die. 

On the minus side… Mating with Sam. Dean’s stomach gave a queasy lurch and his mind rapidly skimmed past the events of last night. Waking up this morning—and here were more details Dean would just as soon forget, such as Sam’s morning wood snugged up tight against the crack of his ass and Sam’s cum still leaking from his raw, sorely abused hole—both hunters had silently agreed to go on about their day as if nothing had happened. 

Plus side, Dean couldn’t help but remember as the shower ran over the impressive length of his still-sensitive cock, werewolf sex included mind-blowing multiple orgasms. Totally awesome, he had to admit.

Minus side, Sam’s multiple orgasms. In Dean’s ass. Not that he begrudged the man his pleasure. It was just the venue where Sam had taken his pleasure that Dean objected to. Never again, he vowed as he turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. 

Oh, and another one for the minus column, Sam had completely destroyed Dean’s clothes in his curse-induced frenzy. He’d already been borrowing Sam’s shirts since arriving in this universe with nothing but the clothes on his back. Now his only pair of jeans were lying in a useless tangle of shredded denim on the motel room floor, a painful reminder of Dean’s humiliation. 

“Dude. We have to find an army surplus or something,” Dean groused. Going commando in his not-brother’s too-long designer-label jeans was so not his style. Dean was a Levi’s man, plain and simple. 

... 

“...Dean, about last night—”

“Don’t,” Dean growled, although he had to admit he was a little impressed with this universe’s version of Sam. They’d made it through breakfast, a shopping trip to replenish Dean’s wardrobe, and more work on their current hunt before his not-brother had given in to his inevitable need to discuss their feelings about the rape of the night before. 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” Dean said again. “One, we were under a curse. Two, we lived through it. And three, it’ll never happen again, right, Sam?”

“We’re still cursed,” Sam pointed out, twisting the silver ring on the fourth finger of his left hand, an obscene parody of a wedding band. Dean’s hand still sported the matching ring, no longer causing him pain, but still stuck firmly on his finger. 

“So we’ll get some bolt cutters or something and cut them off,” he insisted, strongly suspecting that wouldn’t end any better in this world than it would have back home, but unwilling to consider the consequences just now. “Please, Sam, let’s just work this job.”

…

...And minus side, now the damned cursed ring was hurting again. Dean looked over at Sam, who was driving, noting the sweat that beaded the big hunter’s forehead, his rapid, shallow breathing, the way he cradled his hand in his lap. 

“Pull over, man, you’re in no shape to drive.”

“I’m fine,” Sam gritted, stubborn, but when a rest stop came up he pulled in, parking the Mustang at the end of the empty parking lot. 

Dean stepped out of the car, his own hand and arm throbbing with pain, unsure what they were going to do about this latest, unwelcome twist. Sam slammed the driver’s side door behind him and met Dean at the front of the car. He held his hand out and Dean reluctantly placed his palm against Sam’s. The two rings touched and the agony burning through his hand and up his arm swiftly ebbed away. Dean could tell Sam felt the relief, too, but his not-brother’s forehead remained wrinkled with concern, the lines of his shoulders taut under his canvas jacket. 

“You’re still cursed. Still in heat.” Sam’s voice was hoarse as he dropped his hand and stepped back. He ducked his head, not meeting Dean’s eyes. 

Dean’s cock hardened instantly and a faint whimper escaped past his lips. Sam wasn’t making any move to touch him, in fact the other hunter was very obviously struggling to keep his distance, but Dean could feel the werewolf’s need and it awakened a deep-seated instinct in him to tend to it. Maybe it was because a part of him still considered this Sam the little brother he’d always taken care of, or maybe it was an echo of the submission he’d felt last night while Sam’s cock had torn into his virgin ass, opening it wide for his pleasure. Whatever it was, it had Dean moving to close the space Sam had put between them. He took Sam’s chin in his hand, raising his head, forcing the taller man to meet his gaze. “Hey. It’s going to be all right.” 

Sam’s pupils were dilated, his golden eyes darkened with lust to the color of whiskey. His chest heaved with rapid, panting breaths as he struggled for control, his hands fisted at his sides. “I promise I won’t hurt you. Never again,” he murmured brokenly. 

“I know.” And he did, somehow, even knowing Sam easily had the strength to tear his new clothes off and subject him to another brutal rape, but that hadn’t really been Sam, Dean told himself as a shiver of anticipation ran down his spine. That mindless violence had been the curse compelling Sam to mate, and once he’d gotten a handle on it the alpha had done his best to mitigate the effects. 

“I know, Sam.” Dean threaded his fingers through his not-brother’s ridiculously long hair and pulled his head down, brushing his lips against Sam’s in a kiss that was gentle but insistent. His cock stirred restlessly, pressing tight against the stiff new denim of his jeans. 

Sam growled deep in his throat and the kiss instantly turned wanton and wild, his tongue pushing past the soft, pliant barrier of Dean’s lips and wrestling Dean’s tongue into submission. A heated moan tore from Dean’s throat as he felt the press of Sam’s fangs against his mouth, the faint rasp of his not-brother’s skin, clean-shaven but still rougher than the soft, smooth skin of the women Dean was used to kissing back home in his own world. 

Dean gasped as the werewolf picked him up as effortlessly as if he was a woman himself, and not close to two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Sam carried him to the hood of the ‘69 Mustang and laid him out on it almost reverently, following him down to grind his hips against Dean’s and claim his mouth in another blistering kiss. Dean couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his legs around Sam’s waist, tilting his pelvis for a better angle to grind against the hot, hard bulge of Sam’s cock. He couldn’t stop the fevered growls and whimpers that tore from his throat, his heightened senses making the thrust of Sam’s tongue into his mouth feel almost as good as sex itself. 

“Sam…” Dean pushed him back, but only so he could fumble open the buttons of Sam’s fly and let the magnificent length of his cock tumble out of its denim prison, pre-cum already glistening on the head. Sam let out a low, strained growl and his hips bucked as Dean gripped his cock, slicking his palm with Sam’s pre-cum and stroking him firmly from base to tip and back again. 

“Please, Dean… I just want to touch you, I promise,” he begged. Dean felt another shiver run down his spine and his cock strained harder against the confines of his jeans. Unable to trust his voice, he simply nodded, lying back on the sun-warmed hood of the classic muscle car and letting his not-brother do what he would with him. 

Sam’s fingers dug into his waistband and for a frantic instant Dean thought the big alpha was going to rip yet another pair of jeans to shreds. Sam stuttered out a laugh, harsh and broken, and recovered himself, carefully undoing the buttons of Dean’s fly and sliding the rough, new denim down just far enough to free his cock. The fabric bunched over Dean’s balls, coarse and constricting but oddly reassuring as he realized Sam was deliberately keeping a barrier between his monster cock and Dean’s still-sore and tormented ass. 

He threw back his head and moaned as Sam leaned over him, bringing his cock to lay alongside Dean’s and gripping them both together in his long, strong fingers, giving both a couple of clumsy, lust-addled strokes before abandoning the idea and bracing his hands on either side of Dean’s shoulders and grinding his hips down on Dean’s. 

Sparks flared in Dean’s vision and he moaned again, reaching up to clutch Sam’s broad shoulders, grinding his cock against Sam’s, both hard and thick and slick with strands of pre-cum. Sam quickened the pace, taking Dean’s lower lip between his teeth and worrying it, making Dean growl with the intense sensations of mingled pain and pleasure as Sam’s fangs drew blood. Dean could feel his balls tightening under the tangle of denim, his cock hardening even more as his climax built. 

Sam kept grinding into him, frotting their cocks together, growling and whining as the delicious friction drove him on toward his own fierce climax. Dean arched his back, heels drumming against the hood of the Mustang as he came. He felt the heat of Sam’s cock, throbbing against his as it pulsed out its own sweet release, and with a final howl of ecstasy Dean blacked out.


	7. Ride

Dean came back down to earth to the sound of another vehicle pulling off the highway. He and Sam had been so caught up in their curse-induced lust that getting caught humping in public on the hood of their car had been the last thing on their minds. Dean groaned and levered himself up on his elbows, but Sam laid a hand flat against his chest and pushed him right back down again. The werewolf held the hunter down easily, smirking as the other vehicle came to a halt and car doors slammed. 

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean protested, feeling a blush paint his cheekbones in spite of himself. “What, are you crazy?” He could only imagine the looks they were getting from the occupants of the other car. He sure as hell wasn’t going to turn his head to see for himself.

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “Not finished with you yet.” The big alpha slid his hand down Dean’s chest to his belly, where the evidence of their most recent orgasms had puddled, and rubbed the traces of fluid into Dean’s skin with the palm of his hand. Only then did Sam step back, taking his sweet time tucking his cock and balls back inside his fly. 

Dean scrambled to get off the hood of the Mustang and into the relative privacy of the driver’s seat, his face burning even as he had to laugh at this latest twist. It just figured that in this universe his quiet, reserved brother would have a streak of exhibitionism. 

...

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue this hunt, not until we get these cursed rings off,” Dean broached the sore subject a short while later. 

To his surprise, Sam nodded his head, agreeing. “Whoever set that trap wanted us incapacitated. And I’m pretty sure it’s affecting me worse than you, which means as the full moon gets closer and you become more wolfish…”

“It’ll be damn near unbearable,” Dean concluded with a scowl. 

“Dean, I’m sorry—”

“Stop it, Sam. You’re not the one that put that ring on my finger,” Dean reminded him gruffly. “Besides, I’ve been in worse situations,” he added with a humorless snort. 

“Sure you have,” Sam muttered, “in hell.” 

Belatedly, Dean realized how it must feel for Sam, to have sex with him compared to being tortured in hell. In either world, Sam Winchester had never been the type of guy to force his attentions where they weren’t wanted, but now he didn’t have any choice. This curse was no picnic for him, either, but Dean couldn’t think of anything to say to make things better. 

The drive continued in uncomfortable silence until Sam finally said, “We need to research this curse. We need to see Chuck.” 

“Chuck Shurley, the prophet? That Chuck?”

Sam looked confused. “Profit? Yeah, he’s made a lot of profit off those ridiculous vampire novels of his, but Chuck Shirley’s got one of the best occult libraries in the country. And he owes me for taking care of a poltergeist that was haunting his mansion in Savannah,” Sam added. 

“Crazy,” Dean sighed. At least, by the sound of it, the guy was getting a better deal in this world than back home, where the Chuck Shurley Dean knew had been penniless, barely eking out a living from his paperback novels. “Okay, let’s go visit Chuck...” 

…

...Dean would have driven straight through to Savannah, but unsurprisingly, the curse had other ideas. He pulled into a seedy-looking motel and booked them a room while Sam waited in the Mustang. The pureblood was practically writhing in agony by the time Dean returned with the room key, and, he had to admit, he wasn’t feeling much better himself. His hand ached and burned as if submerged in the fires of hell itself, but the throbbing ache of his needy cock was somehow worse. 

They fell across the nearest bed, not even bothering to undress, just grinding up on one another in joyless desperation until they both came and the pain receded, though it didn’t entirely dissipate. 

“Hey, Sam… You okay?” Dean knew the curse was hitting Sam even harder than it was him, but the werewolf just grunted something that might have been an affirmative and rolled over, putting his back to Dean, waves of shame virtually rolling off of him. “All right. I’m going to hit the shower, then maybe we can order a pizza or something,” he said awkwardly, trying to pretend normalcy although deep down, he knew it was useless. There was only one hunger concerning the Winchesters right now, and it was all-consuming. 

In the shower Dean jerked himself off to another unsatisfying climax, Sam and his pheromone-sensitive nose be damned. When he emerged from the bathroom he found him sitting slumped at the dinette table, lining up the contents of the mini-bar. “Planning on a bender, there, Sam?”

“It won’t help. There's barely enough alcohol here to give me a buzz.” The werewolf sighed, a defeated sound. When he raised his head from the bottles Dean saw that his golden eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You know, all my life I’ve been told werewolves are monsters. That we’re just animals, out of control. I never let myself believe that crap, until now.” 

“You’re not a monster, Sam.” Dean’s heart went out to him. “And you’re not an animal. Think of all the people whose lives you’ve saved. You’re a hero.” 

“Not to you,” Sam argued. His face was twisted with self-loathing, an expression hauntingly familiar to Dean from his real brother’s battle with his demon blood addiction. 

“Especially to me,” Dean told him firmly. He threaded his fingers through Sam’s hair, leaning down to brush a chaste kiss against the younger hunter’s forehead. 

The innocent contact shattered the werewolf’s self-control. Dean yelped as Sam erupted from the chair, lifting him effortlessly over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry. His first instinct was to lash out. Dean’s fists drummed against the solid muscles of Sam’s back as he carried him to the bed and slung him down unceremoniously onto the mattress. “Dammit, Sam—” Another frantic yelp cut off his protest as Sam yanked off the fresh pair of jeans and boxer shorts Dean had just put on, leaving him completely naked and exposed. 

The big alpha knelt between Dean’s legs, one hand splayed on his chest, pinning him to the mattress. Panicking, anticipating another mindless assault, Dean tensed to fight when Sam’s other hand closed around his cock. Dean’s mind went momentarily blank at the rush of sensation as Sam caressed his aching cock, his strong, skilled fingers promising sweet release. 

“Oh, god, Sam…” 

“I’ve got you, baby.” Dean relaxed in a haze of pleasure at the reassurance, letting his not-brother stroke him perilously close to another climax. Sam’s thumb slid over the head of his cock and Dean cried out, an ecstatic moan that quickly changed into an involuntary whimper of apprehension as Sam pushed his legs up, spreading his ass cheeks and pressing an insistent finger up against his hole. 

“Shh… Not going to hurt you,” Sam promised huskily. 

Dean realized Sam was prepping him, the tip of the alpha’s finger slick with lube. He clenched his eyes shut, overcome with embarrassment at the unfamiliar, intensely intimate contact. Sam worked his cock with one hand, setting a slower pace now, keeping Dean on edge. The bigger man loomed over him, still fully clothed, making Dean feel even more vulnerable in his nakedness. 

He couldn’t stop the whine that tore from his throat when Sam pushed one slick finger inside him, slow but relentless. Dean’s ass clamped involuntarily and Sam pulled back out, only to press back in a moment later on another cool, wet slither of lube. He wasn’t in any danger of coming now, his cock softening even with all the attention from Sam’s clever fingers stroking it. It was too humiliating, too damned _weird_ to have another guy fingering his asshole. A guy who, if not for the fangs and wolf-like golden eyes, would look exactly like his brother. 

Dean whined again and tried to squirm away, but Sam dropped his softening cock to grip his thigh, holding him still. Holding him in a position that spread his ass cheeks apart, and that realization only made his sphincter clamp down tighter, until Sam crooked his finger, pressing it into that fabled sweet spot that Dean had known existed, but that he’d never experienced… Until now. 

Stars swam in his vision and his hips bucked, pushing Sam’s finger even deeper into his ass. Dean’s cock hardened again in an instant and he bit his own lip to try and stop himself from begging Sam to do it again. He didn’t have to. Sam chuckled, a low, knowing sound, and pressed his fingertip up against the sensitive spot again and again. Before Dean knew it, a second finger had crowded in, and then a third, filling him with jolt after jolt of delicious sensation. 

“Just look at you,” Sam practically purred, obviously proud of his handiwork, and Dean felt his face heat up. “Stay right there, just like that.” Sam slowly slid his fingers out, pausing to fondle Dean’s balls for a moment before backing away, tearing another involuntary whine from Dean’s throat. Something compelled him to obey in spite of his embarrassment, lying passive and still with his legs spread wide, balanced on the edge of cringing humiliation and eager anticipation as the swift rustle of fabric indicated that Sam was stripping naked. 

The cheap motel mattress sagged under the werewolf’s weight as he returned to the bed, but instead of kneeling between Dean’s sprawled legs as he’d expected him to, Dean felt Sam lie down beside him. The alpha’s big callused hand caressed the side of his face for a long moment, then dropped away.

Dean rolled onto his side to face him. To his astonishment, he saw a tear sliding down the alpha’s cheek. “Sam?”

“There’s a revolver in the trunk of the car, loaded with silver bullets,” Sam said tonelessly. 

“Come on, Sam, it’s not that bad—”

“I don’t want to be like this, Dean. I’m not a monster, not yet, and I’d rather die than turn back into that...That thing that hurt you.” 

“I’m telling you, you’re not a monster,” Dean said brusquely, “and I’m sure as hell not going to shoot you.” His emotions were a roil of sympathy, exasperation, and amusement at his little not-brother’s sudden melodrama. Even as Sam had his moment of existential angst, Dean saw that his cock was still painfully erect, arched against his belly and dripping pre-cum. Dean moved to straddle the werewolf’s waist, grinning wickedly at the way Sam threw back his head and whimpered as Dean gripped his cock, lining it up with his hole. “Let’s try plan B first,” he murmured. 

Sam panted helplessly as Dean positioned his cock snug against his hole, giving the shaft a final stroke before moving his hands to rest on Sam’s chest. It gave Dean a boost of confidence to be on top. He was in charge now, Sam’s eyes wide and trusting and glazed with lust as he stared up at him, trembling with need but holding perfectly still, letting Dean set his own pace. Sam’s hands fisted in the bedclothes, gripping the fabric frantically as Dean rocked back, pressing the head of Sam’s cock against his ass with agonizing slowness until it pushed past the tight barrier and both men cried out, Sam with a deep-throated growl of pure pleasure, Dean with a stifled gasp of pain as his sphincter clamped down hard at the intrusion. 

Reminding himself forcefully that he was the one in control, Dean held still, making himself take deep, calming breaths until his rebellious muscles released and the pain ebbed away, leaving nothing but that near-alien sensation of of fullness that almost defeated him right then and there. God, he was stretched to the limit, and with only the head of Sam’s cock inside him so far. Dean’s leg muscles tensed, every fiber of him wanting to pull up and off and relieve that intense pressure, but he resisted, gathering his stubborn pride and forcing himself down, letting Sam’s monster cock impale more of his tender ass.

“So good, baby. You’re doing so good, Dean,” Sam crooned encouragement. The werewolf’s entire body was quivering with the effort of holding still, his hands clenching and unclenching in the covers spasmodically. Dean could all too easily imagine those big hands gripping his hips and forcing him down onto his cock, but the alpha just smiled up at him, seemingly content to let Dean torment him with the teasingly slow pace he’d set so far. 

He felt the tightness inside of him ease, the desire to submit overwhelming his embarrassment, and kept his sphincter relaxed, allowing himself to sink down even further onto Sam’s rock-hard cock. Dean’s control was far from perfect and Sam groaned as his muscles fluttered involuntarily, caressing his cock. It gave a hungry twitch at the added sensation and Dean bit back a protesting whine of his own as that thick length filled him even fuller. 

“Sorry. You’re just so…” Sam’s voice trailed off into an incoherent growl of pleasure. His chest heaved under Dean’s palms, hot and slick with sweat as they both struggled to maintain control, Sam trying so hard not to move while Dean grit his teeth and focused all his will on giving Sam full access to his tight passage. 

He felt his ass stretched impossibly far, pressure bordering on pain, and the need for relief became almost unbearable. Dean rose up on leg muscles shaking with reaction, letting Sam’s cock slide out just the slightest bit before driving himself back down onto it, even deeper than before. Sam whimpered and moaned, animalistic sounds of approval as Dean’s ass gripped and clenched around his hot, hard length. The helpless noises tearing out of Sam’s throat drove Dean on and he rose up again only to sink back down further. Up and down, up and down, blanking his mind of everything except the need to get all of that thick, throbbing length inside him.

“Almost there.” Sam’s voice was strained with the effort of holding still, letting Dean set the pace. 

Dean groaned, even as the warm approval in Sam’s whiskey-colored eyes made heat pool in his belly and his own cock twitch in reaction. “Can’t take any more,” he growled, but just then his trembling legs gave out and gravity took care of the rest. Dean whimpered as Sam’s cock sank that final inch into his ass, impaling him completely.

Sam arched his back, throwing back his head in ecstasy as Dean’s tight passage clenched around him. “Oh, baby, you’re just getting started.”


	8. Submission

“So good, baby,” Sam’s voice crooned in his ears. “So good…” Dean’s head drooped as he straddled the big alpha’s slim hips, his arms braced, palms flat on Sam’s chest. Both hunters were trembling with exertion, chests and thighs slick with sweat. Sam growled low in his throat, giving voice to the strain of holding himself still inside Dean’s deliciously tight, hot ass. 

Dean couldn’t hold back a whimper in response to that deep, animalistic demand. He was fully impaled on Sam’s length, ass stuffed full of his not-brother’s hot, hard cock. “Can’t take any more,” he muttered, barely audible.

Sam’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the motel room, their golden, wolfish hue darkening with lust. “Oh, baby,” he growled, “we’re just getting started.” The hunter’s big, callused hands shifted their grip from the sheets to Dean’s hips, raising him up effortlessly. 

Dean moaned as he felt himself lifted off Sam’s cock and his sphincter tightened involuntarily, desperate to cling to every hard-won inch. The muscles in Sam’s arms tensed, the veins lining his forearms popping into stark relief as he raised Dean up off his cock until only the head remained lodged firmly inside of him. 

Dean’s cock was arched against his belly, rock-hard and dripping a steady stream of pre-cum. It gave a needy twitch as Sam lowered his ass slowly back down onto his own cock, moaning in pleasure as Dean’s ass gripped tight around his hard, throbbing shaft. Sam held him still for a moment, reveling in the sensation of his submission, then lifted him up again, sliding his cock out an inch or two only to lower Dean back down twice as far, making the older hunter whimper as his tender ass was stretched wide to accommodate Sam’s hungry cock. 

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean breathed, and his cock gave an urgent twitch at the alien but increasingly pleasurable sensation of being crammed full and dominated by his not-baby-brother. Sam’s arms were inhumanly strong, holding Dean firmly in place, raising and lowering him onto Sam’s monster cock, leisurely fucking his ass open, letting his cock slip out and in, out and in. A little way out, then deeper in, always deeper every time, until at last Sam lowered him and Dean felt the big alpha’s balls resting just beneath his ass. 

His cock gave another needy twitch against his belly, demanding attention. Dean fisted his left hand around it, stroking the cursed silver ring up the underside of the shaft, but Sam shifted, pulling out only to slam back into Dean’s ass with a sharp snap of his hips. A keening moan tore from Dean’s lips as Sam hit his prostate and his vision damn near blacked out from the jolt of sensation that ripped through him. 

“Hands off,” Sam growled, and Dean dropped his cock with a submissive whimper. “Going to make you come just from fucking that ass,” the alpha promised with another thrust, and Dean’s whimper deepened into a wanton groan of pleasure. Sam picked up the pace, rocking his pelvis with every thrust, hitting the sweet spot deep inside Dean’s body, making the hunter’s cock twitch and leak pre-cum onto the taut muscles of Sam’s belly. 

“Fuck me, Sammy… Please, fuck me,” Dean whined, mindless with lust, and Sam was happy to give his omega just what he was begging for. 

Dean’s ass was so tight, so hot. It clung and caressed Sam’s cock with every thrust, sweet torment that ripped growls and moans from his throat, animalistic, involuntary noises of passion. The smooth rhythm of his hips started to falter as his orgasm built, and he growled again before barking out a command, “Come for me.” 

 

Dean’s body reacted instinctively, balls tightening and cock stiffening to almost painful hardness as his orgasm overtook him. He let out a shout, arching his back and throwing his head back as he came on command for his mate. That was all it took for Sam to lose all control, slamming Dean down onto his cock as he came and came endlessly, his whole body shuddering with the strength of his release.   
It took a while for Dean to regain full awareness, long minutes of ecstasy that damn near left him passed out, white-hot stars swimming in his vision as he came with Sam's cock bucking deep inside him. Sam's arms finally gave out and Dean sprawled atop his not-brother's broad chest, rutting against his tight abs as his orgasm took its sweet time winding down. "That was awesome," he finally managed to mumble. 

"Mm..." Sam dipped his head to nuzzle into Dean's shoulder. The werewolf couldn't seem to keep away from the partially-healed bite wounds. 

Dean growled and shifted irritably as Sam nipped hard enough to draw fresh blood. It no longer surprised him that his cock remained rock-hard after his first orgasm. Dean got his legs under him, raising up with a grunt of effort and straddling Sam's hips, aiming a half-serious smack to the side of Sam's head. "I'm not your chew toy, dammit." 

"Finish me off." Sam's voice was a low, demanding growl that made fresh heat pool in Dean's belly and tightened his balls. "Milk my cock. Make me come." 

"Going to make you beg for it," Dean smirked. He yelped as Sam reared up and latched onto his shoulder, sucking hard at the bite he'd inflicted. Dean's cock twitched and his ass tightened involuntarily around Sam's cock, still hard and hot and knotted inside him, tying them together. "Jerk me off, Sammy."

Sam whined a protest but Dean rocked his hips, clenching his ass tight around Sam's cock. With a moan, Sam's fingers closed obediently around Dean's cock, thick-veined and slick with cum. Sam slid his fist up to the head and Dean rocked his hips again, thrusting into his not-brother's warm, callused palm. His ass clamped down around the satisfying thickness of Sam's cock, drawing another frantic moan from the big alpha's throat. Sam's tight fist slid back down the length of Dean's cock and Dean relaxed, muscles trembling and fluttering around his mate's cock as he released his grip, but only for a moment. Then Sam was jerking his cock again, tugging his fist up to the head, and Dean was thrusting into his palm, rocking his hips forward and caressing Sam's cock with the sweet, tight grip of his ass. 

Sam's eyes were unfocused, dark with lust as he gazed up at Dean with adoration.   
"Make me come. Please..." his voice trailed off into a needy whine and his cock twitched hungrily inside Dean, dragging an answering whimper from the hunter's throat. "Please, Dean. Please..." 

"Oh yeah, Sam. Come for me." Dean's voice grew strained as he ground down on that thick, glorious length and clamped tight around it. "Right... Now..." 

Dean moaned as he felt Sam's balls shift and tighten against his ass cheeks. A second later the big alpha's cock shot its hot load into him. Sam growled, his fist still gripping Dean's cock, jerking him off with clumsy, faltering movements as his orgasm overwhelmed him, driving all thought from his mind. It didn't matter. Dean's legs and abs and balls tightened almost painfully and his own orgasm ripped through him. His hips jerked and twitched and his own small load spilled over Sam's fist. There was nothing little about Sam's load, jets of cum streaming endlessly from that thick, monster cock, filling him full. 

Spent, he collapsed on top of Sam, who rolled them over. With a lazy grin the big alpha licked his fingers clean, then swooped down and claimed a blistering kiss, filling Dean's mouth with the salty taste of his own cum. "Ugh. Bitch," Dean muttered sleepily. 

Sam chuckled as his cock slipped out of Dean's ass, finally satiated. Sam licked the bite on Dean's shoulder and tucked his not-brother into his side possessively. "Jerk," he retorted fondly.


	9. Sixty-nine

Dean drove the Mustang with one hand on the wheel, the other entwined with Sam’s. Constant physical contact, especially between the two halves of the silver ring, seemed to hold the symptoms of the curse at bay, at least for a time. Following Sam’s directions, Dean pulled up in front of an impressive mansion in one of Savannah’s toniest suburbs. 

“Sorry about this.” Sam started to tug his hand out of Dean’s grasp. The werewolf’s head was down, his hair falling over his face, obscuring his features, but Dean could hear the guilt in his tone. 

“Hey.” He gripped Sam’s hand, holding it in place, and ducked his head to look at his not-brother, forcing the younger man to meet his eyes. “None of this is your fault, okay? Come on,” Dean added, forcing a grin. “I want to meet this world’s version of Chuck Shurley. Last time I saw the dude, he was flat broke, sitting around typing up cheesy paperback novels in his bathrobe.” 

It turned out that Chuck still wore a bathrobe, but this universe’s successful novelist sported a monogrammed velvet version when he personally answered the door. “Sam Winchester. Good to see you again! And this must be Dean… Please, come on in.” The author ushered them into a study, all mellow wood paneling and built-in bookshelves. Persian carpets on the hardwood floors and leather-upholstered furniture made for a warm, inviting room. 

The books on the shelves, Dean saw, rivaled Bobby Singer’s collection in his own world, if the worn leather bindings and musty smell were a reliable indicator of occult tomes. Then the hunter’s eyes widened in shock as a woman entered the room with a tray of drinks. “Watch it, lady, he's mine,” he growled, intercepting Sam as he reached for a glass of iced tea.

“Dean!” Sam’s own golden eyes widened at Dean’s rudeness.

“That’s my wife.” Chuck’s usually mild tone sharpened as the dishwater blonde set the tray down with a flustered little chuckle. 

“Becky Rosen-Shurley,” she introduced herself to Dean, offering a hand.The hunter shook it briefly, but only after a long, distrustful pause. 

“Sorry, Sam, but in my world Becky was an obsessed fan. She roofied you, man!” 

“Aw, Sam, he’s so possessive. That’s so sweet!” Becky’s slightly protruding eyes sparkled as she took a seat close to Chuck and kissed his cheek. “But you don’t need to worry, Dean. Chuck and I are _very_ happily married.”

Dean realized he’d gripped Sam’s hand again in unconscious reaction to the perceived threat of his brother’s most ravenous fangirl. He scoffed, but ultimately decided not to let go. Sam rolled his eyes and reached for a glass of iced tea with his free hand.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet,” he told Chuck after taking a sip of his drink.

“Of course. Anything to help. My library is at your disposal.” Chuck waved his hand, indicating the shelves of books. 

“And you can stay in our guest house while you research the curse,” Becky added eagerly. “We just finished building it. It’s absolutely darling.” 

Chuck coughed self-consciously. “Paid for it with the advance for my latest vampire novel,” he admitted. 

“But enough about us,” Becky broke in, giving Sam and Dean a significant look. “I think you two might want to, er… Freshen up a bit before starting your research?”

Dean was about to insist they could get right to it when he felt a tremor run through Sam’s fingers entwined in his. Glancing sidelong at the werewolf, he saw that his forehead was beaded with sweat, his shoulders tensed. Clearly the curse was exerting its unwelcome effects again. 

“I’m fine,” Sam insisted.

“That’d be great. It was a long drive,” Dean overruled him. 

Sam scowled, but once Becky had directed them to the guest quarters behind the main house, the big alpha’s shoulders slumped with relief... 

**…**

“...This has got to be bullshit, right?” 

Sam looked up from the fragile parchment pages of the antique book he was carefully paging through as Dean thrust another tome under his nose. “The Seal of Solomon? No, as far as I know it’s an accurate resource. Why do you ask?” Sam's forehead creased in confusion. 

Dean grimaced. “Because the Seal of Solomon exists in my world, but it’s nothing like this. This is like Solomon was smoking crack when he wrote it.” He took the book back, setting it aside. 

Sam raised his left hand, indicating his half of the cursed silver ring that Dean had put on by accident. “Yeah, Dean, the rules are pretty obviously different here.” 

“I’m starting to get that,” Dean said dryly. The two worked in silence for a time until Sam looked over at Dean, watching the older hunter jotting down notes from yet another arcane book of lore. 

“You’re actually not bad at this,” Sam offered. 

Dean scoffed. “I can do research. It might not be my favorite thing ever, like you, nerd”—Sam rolled his eyes and chuckled at the familiar insult—“but I know how.”

Sam checked his watch. “It’s late. Let’s take a break and come at this again fresh tomorrow morning.” He shook his head at Dean’s automatic look of concern, silencing any inquiry about the curse. “Dude. I’m just tired, that’s all.” 

Leaving Chuck’s library, they returned to the guest quarters. Dean whistled appreciatively at the palatial suite. Sitting down on a sofa, he took off his boots and socks, reveling in the thick, lush carpeting beneath his bare feet as he padded over to the bathroom. “I’m just going to grab a quick shower.” 

A barely-audible grunt was Sam’s only reply. The big alpha had sprawled out face down on a king-size bed, still fully dressed. Dean chuckled at the sight and stepped into the bathroom, which featured both a gigantic whirlpool tub and a steam shower. Dean hoped Sam appreciated the higher income bracket his friends in this world occupied. Opting for the steam shower, he adjusted the controls to his liking, groaning softly as the pulse of hot water from multiple massaging shower heads unknotted muscles he hadn’t even realized were tense. It didn’t take long for the pleasant, relaxing sensation to waken his ever-eager cock, and Dean quickly jerked himself off to an enjoyable climax. 

The towels were every bit as luxurious as the rest of the surroundings, oversized and scandalously soft and plush. “You know, Sam, I could get used to this,” Dean announced as he emerged from the bathroom with one of them wrapped around his waist. Again, a sleepy mumble was his only response. Sam had pulled off his clothes and turned down the covers. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle even as his half-softened cock gave a twitch of interest at the sight of the big alpha sprawled naked on the bed. With his eyes closed and his fangs hidden behind his lips, it was hard not to think of Sam as his brother, even though his own, real Sam would never have lounged around a shared motel room nude. Dean stepped closer to the bed, drawn to the younger hunter in spite of himself, feasting his eyes on Sam’s long, lean, well-muscled physique laid out like a tempting banquet in front of him. Sam’s heavy cock draped over one muscular thigh, impressively thick even when flaccid. 

Dean shook his head, forcibly clearing it of those lustful, damned near incestuous thoughts. Sam was obviously down for the count. He unwound the towel from around his waist and crawled into bed next to his brother, luxuriating in the smooth, sinfully soft cotton sheets sliding against his bare skin. The suite had several other beds, but the curse compelled them to keep in close contact. Which was fine by Dean. No matter his mind’s objections, his body wanted nothing more than to snuggle up to his not-baby-brother. 

He did just that, spooning against Sam’s broad back, leaning over to press a good-night kiss to Sam’s cheek. Sam turned his head, meeting Dean’s lips hungrily, plunging his tongue into Dean’s mouth, quickly turning the innocent kiss into something wicked and passionate. Dean moaned as Sam’s fangs grazed his lower lip, promising both pleasure and pain. Sam rolled over to face him, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist and hauling him tight against him. Dean couldn’t quite stifle another moan as he felt his not-brother’s cock pressed against his hip, rapidly lengthening as it awoke and sprang erect. 

“Thought you were sleepy,” Dean managed to husk out when they came up for air. 

Sam’s chest flexed against his as he hitched one shoulder up in a careless shrug. “I’ll get my four hours in eventually,” he said, citing the universal hunters’ abbreviated standard of a good night’s rest. 

Dean half expected the alpha to roll him over and start lubing his ass for another urgent fuck session, but their time spent “freshening up” earlier hadn’t worn off yet. The fuck-or-die urgency of the curse hadn’t caught up to them. This was desire, plain and simple, inspired by nothing more than proximity and their own strong sex drives. Weird as Dean kept telling himself it was to be making out with a man—a man who might as well be his own little brother, no less—he couldn’t deny the attraction. Sam was kissing him deeply, frotting their cocks together with delicious friction, hands running over Dean’s body as if he couldn’t get enough of him. 

Sam suddenly pulled away, drawing a protesting growl from Dean’s lips, but the alpha only shifted position, turning around on the bed. Dean gasped as he dipped his head and bit into the sensitive skin of his inner thigh hard enough to draw blood. 

“God dammit, Sam, I told you, I’m not your chew toy,” he snarled, bolting upright and moving to push the werewolf away from him, only to fall back onto the mattress with a moan as Sam fisted his cock, giving it a long, leisurely stroke. Sam licked up the trickle of blood from the twin punctures on the pale skin of Dean’s thigh, his tongue lapping the torn flesh in time with the stroking of his fist on Dean’s cock. 

“Sorry,” he said cheerfully, clearly not the least bit apologetic. “You just smell so good… Taste so good…” Dean stifled a yelp as Sam’s tongue moved to his cock. He let out a long, shuddering moan as Sam took the base of his cock in a firm grip and licked his way up the shaft. Dean closed his eyes, seeing stars bursting white-hot behind his eyelids as Sam dragged his tongue up the length of his cock, darting the tip out to lap at the slit, then dragging it in slow, sensuous circles around the head. 

“God damn, Sammy,” Dean growled, but this time it wasn’t a protest. He raised up on his elbows to watch his not-baby-brother work on his cock. Sam lifted his eyes at the rustle of the sheets, pausing in his attentions to give Dean a wicked grin, golden eyes sparkling with mischief, his lower lip barely brushing against the exquisitely sensitive head of Dean’s cock. 

Somewhere at the back of Dean’s mind, where his brain was still able to function, it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Sam—either world's version—grin like that in a very long time. Then all thought retreated into a white-hot haze of pleasure as Sam tongued his cock again from base to tip. The alpha let out a pleased, possessive little hum as he lapped at Dean’s slit again, licking up a droplet of pre-cum. Dean groaned and his hips bucked at the sweet torment. His cock twitched against the confines of Sam’s fist, demanding more. 

“Suck my cock,” Dean pleaded. 

Sam chuckled, driving Dean wild with the sly, knowing sound, and gave his cock another slow, tantalizing lick, dragging his hot, wet tongue up the impressive length of Dean’s cock and teasing it all around the head before lapping up another glistening drop of pre-cum. “You first,” he growled. 

With a twitch of his hips, Sam brought his cock close to Dean’s face, letting the hunter feel the heat practically rolling off the long, throbbing member. Up close, he could see the thick veins twining around the shaft, the head leaking a gleaming rope of pre-cum. Sam shifted his hips again, slapping his cock against Dean’s cheek, smearing it with the clear, musky fluid even as he gave Dean’s cock another agonizingly slow, teasing lick. “Come on, baby,” Sam taunted. “You know you want it.”

Dean knew no such thing. Even half-blinded by lust, he’d never signed on to sucking another dude’s hairy dick. He wrapped his hand around the shaft, if only to keep his brother’s rowdy, demanding cock from slapping his face again, quickly setting a rhythm, hoping to satisfy the alpha with a hand job. 

No such luck. Sam’s own hand slipped from his cock to tug at his balls with enough pressure to drag a whine of protest from Dean’s throat. “Suck my cock,” Sam growled. 

Heat pooled in Dean’s belly at the blatant command and he opened his mouth to give Sam’s cock a tentative lick, tonguing the sensitive spot just below the head. Sam’s slit was leaking pre-cum and Dean stroked a thumb over it, wiping away the fresh droplet before he gave another experimental lick, letting the tip of his tongue swirl around the head. The skin was hot and velvety soft, the taste salty but not as unpleasant as he’d feared. “Never did this before…” Dean muttered, his lips just brushing against Sam’s cock, and Sam’s hips bucked in response. 

“Good. Want to be your first,” he groaned, and let go of Dean’s balls to grip his hips instead. 

An instant later Dean damned near bucked right off the mattress as Sam’s mouth engulfed his straining cock. Dean tried to control himself, tried to hold still for Sam, but his hips had a mind of their own, thrusting his cock into that wet, delicious heat. The werewolf let him have his way, those big, strong hands holding on as he bucked and rocked, but doing nothing to hold him back. Dean whimpered and growled as his cock slid down Sam’s throat, frantic, wanton noises that had Sam humming in approval as he took in Dean’s considerable length. 

Some deep, submissive instinct had Dean wrapping his own lips around Sam’s cock, sucking and licking as best he could even as Sam’s skillful ministrations made him lose his mind. Dean whimpered deep in his throat as he felt his orgasm building. The heat of Sam’s mouth, the impossibly good sensation as he swallowed around Dean’s shaft and took the head of his cock deep into that velvet throat, it was all too much and Dean came hard and fast, moaning with the intensity of his orgasm. 

Sam swallowed his load and pulled off his cock with a loud, wet pop as the suction released, dragging a final moan out of Dean at the insult to his over-sensitized cock. “Your turn.” 

Dean’s brain was mush, his thoughts fuzzy and wandering in the afterglow. He let out a yelp as Sam shoved him flat onto his back and straddled his chest, pinning his arms to his sides. Once more, that big, demanding cock slapped at Dean’s face as Sam thrust his hips forward, making his intentions more than clear. This time Dean took Sam into his mouth without hesitation, eager to give his mate what he so obviously wanted. 

Sam held still for as long as he could as Dean found his rhythm, bobbing his head forward to take as much of Sam’s length as he could, licking the underside of the shaft as he let his head drop back. His efforts were amateurish but Sam moaned his approval. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold back any more and started to move, rocking his pelvis forward to thrust into Dean’s mouth. 

The hunter felt himself start to gag and reached for Sam’s hips, but a growl from the alpha had him dropping his hands back to fist in the sheets. Sam slipped a hand into Dean’s hair, running his fingers through it in a gentle caress before cupping the back of his head firmly, holding him in place. “Just relax, baby. You’re doing fine,” he crooned. He pulled back, letting his cock slip almost all the way out of Dean’s mouth, then thrust back in. 

Dean struggled not to gag as Sam took control and used his mouth. He whined around the thick shaft, feeling the muscles of his throat clench involuntarily, but Sam just threaded his fingers through his hair and kept right on ramming his cock past Dean’s tonsils and into the back of his throat. Dean couldn’t help it; he gagged, stomach jolting, but Sam was relentless, pulling out only for a second before thrusting back in again. 

“Take it,” he growled, his voice deep and commanding, and Dean felt his resistance melt into submission. His throat relaxed and, with an effort, he got his breathing under control, pacing himself, matching each inhale and exhale to the rhythm of Sam’s thrusts. There wasn’t even a pretext of him giving a blowjob now. Sam was completely in control, using Dean’s mouth for his own pleasure, thrusting deep into Dean’s throat, blocking his airway, only letting him take another breath when the head of his cock had had its fill of stroking against the back of Dean’s throat. Dean gasped in a breath each time Sam pulled out, keeping his lips wrapped tight around that thick, rigid shaft each time it thrust back in, eagerly licking the hot, velvety smooth head each time it passed over his tongue. His world had narrowed down to Sam’s cock in his mouth, his only thought to give his mate pleasure. 

Sam’s thrusts slowed, his cock growing even harder as his climax approached. He pulled out almost all the way, rubbing the spit-slicked head of his cock over Dean’s lips for long moments before thrusting back into Dean’s throat. Then out again as Dean strained to lick and suck every inch, worshiping Sam’s cock with swollen lips and eagerly lapping tongue. 

“Can’t wait… Dean!.. You’re just so damn good,” Sam groaned, and fisted his hand in Dean’s hair, hips bucking forward and thrusting his cock down Dean’s throat. Dean gagged again and his stomach clenched and roiled in helpless protest, but then Sam’s cock shifted in his throat, tightening, signalling the end. Sam howled in ecstasy and came, his cock pumping its release down Dean’s throat until the alpha finally finished with him and pulled out, satisfied. 

Dean sprawled on his back, exhausted, as Sam slid down his body to straddle his knees. He whimpered as the werewolf closed his mouth over the bite wounds he’d inflicted on him earlier. “Jesus, Sam, I’m only human,” he growled. “I need a break.” 

His complaint turned into a moan of passion as Sam lazily stroked his cock, rock-hard again and twitching at every stroke, making a lie of his protest. His cock was already eager for more. Dean propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at his not-brother as he knelt over him, his own cock glistening with cum and Dean’s spit, still jutting up, erect and demanding as ever. 

“Ah, hell… We’ll sleep when we’re dead.”


	10. Flashback I

Flashback: 

Dean dropped a match into the heavy brass bowl of spell ingredients and stepped back, expecting to see the demon he’d just summoned appear inside the devil’s trap laid out on the floor of the empty warehouse. Instead, he felt the ground lurch beneath his feet and hastily grabbed for the big, bone-handled knife lying close to hand on the table. A moment of blackness, and then Dean found himself surrounded by pallets loaded high with boxes. 

He spun in a tight circle, knife in one hand, a pistol—drawn more swiftly than conscious thought—gripped in the other. Nothing. No demon, and thankfully no night watchman, at least not near enough or alert enough to notice the presence of the hunter in the abruptly not-empty warehouse. Dean re-holstered his gun and slipped out a side door, rapidly taking stock of his surroundings as he walked through the industrial neighborhood.

Same neighborhood, same small Midwestern city, but there were differences, some obvious, some so subtle Dean didn’t quite trust his own memory. Time travel, maybe, he thought, or some kind of attack or counter-spell, making him hallucinate? Or maybe an alternate dimension? He chuckled dryly, reflecting that he’d been through some seriously fucked-up shit to make time travel and parallel universes seem almost commonplace. 

A few hours later found him seated in a tavern, just downing the last of his drink and considering what to do next, when the demon he’d been trying to summon walked in the door. The meatsuit looked up, meeting Dean’s eyes briefly, and Dean’s head reeled with shock. Those eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the tavern, gleaming an eerie, inhuman gold. 

The only yellow-eyed demon he’d ever encountered had been Azazel, the demon who’d killed his mother and infected his brother Sam with his blood. But Azazel was long dead, shot by a bullet from Samuel Colt’s legendary gun. Dean had killed the bastard himself. He shook his head, banishing the confusion. 

The demon walked past him, utterly nonchalant, and took a seat at the bar. Dean stalked over, laying a heavy hand on its shoulder. It startled, turning with wide golden eyes, and Dean swore he caught a glimpse of fangs before it broke free with superhuman strength, knocking Dean to the floor and taking off at a run. 

Dean cursed and followed, trailing the creature to a row of townhouses backed up to woods, gradually falling behind. Whatever this thing was, it was unnaturally strong and ran like a high school track star. Dean cursed again as he lost sight of the creature. Had he ducked inside one of the houses, or gone on into the woods? Or was he hiding somewhere nearby? Dean stalked down the short, dead-end street, letting out a grunt of triumph as the golden-eyed man suddenly bolted out of some bushes and took off running for the woods. Dean forced his aching legs and burning lungs to keep pace, tearing after his prey... 

**…**

...Sam Winchester had let out a few creative curses of his own as the rogue werewolf he’d tailed to the bar suddenly reappeared, being chased by a stranger. Running down alleys, ducking behind buildings and through vacant lots, the pair had quickly lost him as he tried to follow in his ‘69 Mustang. On a hunch Sam drove to the closest patch of woods, parking near a row of townhouses. 

As Sam slipped quietly between the trees, he growled another soft string of curses as he caught sight of the stranger. Civilians had no business trying to chase down rogue werewolves! Hell, for all Sam knew, this amateur didn’t even care if his quarry had gone rogue. The stranger might be a bigot, out to harass a werewolf just for existing. The big hunter was just starting to move closer, intending to confront the stranger, when the rogue came barreling through the trees. “Watch out!” Sam yelled. 

Dean heard a shout, but it was already too late as something slammed into him from behind with enough force to knock him to the ground. He rolled, slashing at the creature with his knife, but it batted the blade out of his hand with a deep-throated growl. Dean dove after the weapon, stifling a bellow of pain as claws raked across his shoulders. Somehow his fingers managed to close around the handle of the knife and he turned it in his hand, stabbing awkwardly up and back at the monster. 

Sam took off running toward the rogue and its prey, drawing his pistol as he pelted through the trees, but the stranger was putting up a fight, thrashing and rolling. Sam couldn’t get a clear shot. “Back off! Back off!” he bellowed at the werewolf, but the rogue had given in to blood lust. Then the stranger went limp, the rogue’s fangs buried in his shoulder. Sam fired off two silver bullets, killing it. 

Sam kicked the wolf off the stranger, watching as it changed back into human form, the naked body looking vulnerable, almost pitiful in death. The big hunter didn’t feel a single qualm of guilt. The rogue’s ability to change form at will made it clear that he’d killed before. 

He knelt beside the stranger, clicking on a pocket flashlight to assess the man’s injuries. The beam revealed the stranger’s face and Sam recoiled, his golden eyes widening in disbelief.

“It can’t be!…Dean? _Dean_!” 

**...**

Present: 

Another day of searching through Chuck Shurley’s library had finally yielded a counter-curse. Dean had wanted to get back on the road immediately in search of the many ingredients they’d need to complete the spell, but Chuck’s wife, Becky, had insisted they stay for a celebratory dinner. Much to Dean’s disgust, Sam had agreed to the plan, insisting they could leave early the next morning. 

“I’m hitting the hay,” he grumbled as Sam headed for the palatial bathroom. Dean stripped naked and slipped into bed, his sour mood lightening at the comfort of the pillow-topped mattress beneath his body, the sinfully soft Egyptian cotton sheets against his bare skin. 

He had almost dropped off to sleep when Sam flung back the covers and scooped him up. “Bitch!” Dean protested as the big alpha carried him into the bathroom and stepped into the bathtub. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shut up, jerk,” Sam retorted good-naturedly. He set Dean on his feet in the middle of the tub, tugging him down to sit with him in the deliciously hot, chest deep water. Several whirlpool jets kept the water swirling and bubbling around them. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Admit it, you’d regret missing out on this.” 

“It is kind of awesome,” Dean had to agree. The tub was almost big enough to qualify as a swimming pool, and the water, he had to admit, felt fantastic. It was no surprise when Dean’s cock hardened in reaction to the stimulus. Sam shoving a washcloth into his hand with a demand to wash his back, on the other hand… Now that was a surprise. “What?” Dean said stupidly, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic demand.

“Use the unscented soap,” Sam said, turning his back to Dean so he was sitting between Dean’s legs. 

Dean’s cock gave a twitch as Sam scooted closer, his ass pressed back against Dean’s crotch. “What are you, four?” he groused. “Because that’s probably the last time we took a bath together, at least in my world.”

“I was too young to remember, if we ever even did that here,” Sam countered with a lazy grin, catching Dean’s eye in one of the mirrors mounted on the wall behind the tub. “So I want you to do it for me now.” 

“Weirdo,” Dean scoffed, but he poured some soap onto the washcloth and swiped it over Sam’s broad shoulders, feeling desire coiling in his belly, overriding the strangeness of his not-little-brother’s request. Dean slowly worked his way down to Sam’s back to his narrow waist, then back up again, pulling him back to lean against Dean’s chest as he soaped his chest and belly, teasingly avoiding Sam’s thick, erect cock. 

“Uh-uh,” Dean admonished with a smirk as Sam’s hips rolled up, straining to get that needy cock within reach of his hand, “got to get you clean, first.” 

He set the washcloth aside and cupped his hands, filling them with water that he then poured over Sam’s hair, careful not to get any in Sam’s eyes, just as he’d done as a kid when he’d taken care of his real baby brother. Dean poured a dollop of shampoo into his palm, rubbing his hands together to disperse it between them and then massaging it into Sam’s scalp.

The big hunter practically purred with indulgence, idly stroking his cock as his not-big-brother concentrated on carefully washing and rinsing his hair. 

“Your turn,” Sam murmured, turning back to face Dean, combing his fingers through his wet hair, pushing the long strands back off his forehead. Sam poured soap into his palm, rubbing his hands together in imitation of what Dean had done with the shampoo. He started with Dean’s shoulders, sliding his hands over them in a slippery caress, moving slowly down to stroke Dean’s chest, leaning in to claim his mouth in a sensuous kiss. 

Dean groaned as Sam’s tongue wrestled his, hips thrusting as Sam’s hands dipped lower, skating across Dean’s belly, knuckles brushing tantalizingly against the head of his aching cock. He wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders, trying to ground himself as those light, teasing touches drove him wild, and reached for Sam’s cock, hot and slick with soapy water, stroking it with a firm grip. 

“Please, Sammy,” he pleaded, unable to stop another urgent buck of his hips as Sam caressed his taut six pack of ridged muscle, ‘accidentally’ brushing against his cock, but the alpha moved his hands out of reach with a sly chuckle, dragging another desperate, involuntary noise from Dean’s throat. 

“Uh-uh,” he mocked, rocking his own hips in time to Dean’s hand, thrusting his cock into Dean’s fist. “Got to get you clean, too… But first, I’m going to come.” 

Sam grabbed the back of Dean’s neck and slanted his mouth hard over Dean’s, thrusting his tongue in time to the pace of Dean’s hand wrapped tight around his cock. Dean felt his mate shudder as his cock tightened in his fist, Sam’s low growl vibrating against his mouth. Sam’s fangs sank into Dean’s lower lip as he came, his cock jerking and twitching, spilling its first, phantom load over his fist. 

Dean’s own cock ached for release, the added sensation of the warm water swirling around it driving him crazy. He grunted in surprise as Sam picked him up for the second time that evening, depositing him on the broad stone tile tub surround. Dean shivered as his shoulders touched the cold surface of the mirror as Sam leaned him back, throwing Dean’s legs over his shoulders as he knelt in the water, his lips barely an inch above the head of Dean’s cock. Being manhandled by his ‘little brother’ never failed to awaken submissive feelings in the only-recently infected omega, strange and not entirely welcome, but made irresistible by the force of the mating curse. Dean braced his hands on the lip of the tub, impatient but compelled to let Sam take the lead. 

“Suck my cock, Sam, please,” Dean growled, looking down his body at his not-brother. Sam was staring at his cock as if mesmerized by the thick, clear droplet of pre-cum that was slowly welling up from the slit. Dean followed Sam’s gaze, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited, hoping for Sam’s lips to close around his needy, aching cock. Both men watched as the droplet swelled, finally growing too heavy and sliding off the head of Dean’s cock to fall in a long, glistening strand onto his belly. 

“Jesus, Sam…” Dean thought he might come just from the heat of Sam’s gaze. He squirmed as he felt the warm soapy washcloth touch his balls.

“You want to be good and clean, don’t you, Dean?” Sam stroked his balls with the washcloth, massaging them with the rough cloth, driving Dean crazy with the sensation. Then he swiped it lower, caressing Dean’s ass cheeks, working the cloth into the cleft between them. Dean moaned as Sam paused, but the alpha was only wetting the washcloth. In a moment the sweet torment started up again as Sam rinsed him off with elaborate care. 

“Nice and clean,” Sam crooned, and gripped his ass with both hands, spreading him. Sam ducked his head and Dean let loose an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp as Sam’s tongue swirled around his tight, puckered hole. His cheeks flushed pink as Sam smirked up at him. 

“I take it this is your first rimming, baby?” he chuckled, shameless, punctuating the question with another circle of that wicked tongue. 

“As if you weren’t freaky enough.” The sensation of Sam’s tongue licking his ass was so unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, both hot and humiliating at the same time, but Dean managed a smirk of his own as he looked down at his not-brother. 

Sam gave him a mischievous grin. “It’s going to blow your mind.”


	11. Mirror, Mirror

“This is going to blow your mind…”

Sam gripped Dean’s ass tight and pushed his face between his wide-spread cheeks, thrusting his tongue in as deep as it would go. Like every other muscle on the werewolf’s body, his tongue was big, firm, and strong. Dean saw stars as it wriggled inside him, finding his sweet spot and rubbing across it while Dean moaned his appreciation, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the bathtub. 

“Sam, I’m going to come,” he groaned. Dean wasn’t willing to beg, but he could feel his traitorous body trying to hold back, waiting for his mate to give permission. 

The big alpha grunted an assent, licking inside Dean’s ass relentlessly. Sam never even paused in his wanton efforts, eager to try and make his not-brother come without a single touch to his cock. 

Dean’s hips bucked up as his orgasm built, balls tightening and wild growls and moans tearing out of his throat. Sam finally leaned back as Dean came, watching his cock jerk rhythmically, a little pool of cum puddling on his belly. 

Dean’s head lolled against Sam’s shoulder as Sam lifted him off the edge of the tub and cradled him like a child in the hot, swirling water, his eyes dazed as Sam beamed down at him. “What you lookin’ at?” he managed to mumble after a pause, pushing at Sam’s chest, but his not-baby-brother’s rock-solid arms held him tight. 

“Your eyes,” Sam said frankly. “They won’t be green any more after the full moon, after you turn. I want to remember them.” 

“Take a picture,” Dean grumbled. “Man, I can’t wait to turn. At least then you won’t be able to manhandle me." He gave Sam another peevish shove. "Let me go.” 

Grinning, Sam released him, only to grab him roughly as he knelt in the water, pulling him in tight, chest to chest, hips slotted against hips. Dean frotted against him, his wet cock sliding easily against Sam’s, making the alpha moan as they kissed. After several long moments Sam pulled back, worrying Dean’s lower lip with his fangs before taking him by the shoulders and turning him around so his back was pressed against Sam’s chest, Sam’s cock snug up against the crack of Dean’s slick, wet ass. 

The alpha reached for something on the side of the tub, snagging a tube of lubricant and slicking his cock with a generous palmful. Sam pushed Dean’s thighs apart, spreading his ass cheeks and lining the head of his cock up against Dean’s hole. With a smooth roll of his hips, he thrust it in, breathing out a soft moan of pure pleasure as Dean’s heat fluttered helplessly around him. Sam held still, letting his mate adjust to the intrusion. He reached around Dean’s waist, fisting his hand around Dean’s cock, letting out another quiet, pleased moan at finding it still rock-hard and eager, arched against Dean’s belly. Sam stroked it roughly, setting a hard, fast pace before abruptly dropping his hand to cup Dean’s balls possessively.

“Take over,” he growled, fondling them. “I want you to come as much as you can while I’m fucking myself balls-deep into your ass.” 

Dean groaned as he obeyed. “I don’t need your permission to come, Sammy,” he argued, even as his ass clamped down rhythmically around the head of Sam’s cock 

The defiance sent a stab of lust through the big alpha and he gave a wicked thrust, slamming deeper into Dean’s ass, making him whimper with mingled pleasure and pain. “Actually, it’s getting so you do need my permission,” he pointed out, noting how the curse was affecting the novice omega wolf. “But don’t worry…” Sam chuckled, feeling Dean’s hips start to thrust, pushing his ass back onto Sam’s cock, his not-brother’s muscles tightening involuntarily as his orgasm built. Sam kept tugging and stroking Dean’s heavy balls as Dean came with a growl. "...Because, baby, as much as I love tormenting you, I love watching you come your brains out even more,” he murmured in Dean’s ear. Sam gave another thrust, giving Dean’s ass a few more inches of his monster cock for emphasis. “Keep jerking that cock, Dean. I want you to keep coming, while I come over and over again inside that sweet ass of yours.” 

Dean growled and moaned as his orgasm shuddered through him, Sam’s voice purring in his ear, driving him wild. His cock stayed hard even as it pulsed out the last drops of its release, and he kept his hand wrapped loosely around it, reflexively stroking the thick, rigid length just as Sam had ordered. He ground his ass back onto Sam’s cock, unable to stop himself from whimpering with the need to have Sam's full length inside him. 

Sam gave Dean’s balls a final tug before he gripped his hips, stilling him as he tried to grind back against Sam’s cock. “In a hurry?” Sam teased. 

“Please… Fuck me, Sammy,” Dean begged, his voice hoarse with need, and Sam growled deep in his throat, loving that submissive pleading coming from the normally brash and cocky hunter. He slowly pulled out, making Dean whine and clench his muscles tight around Sam’s shaft, trying to hold him in. A second later and Sam started to thrust, brutally fast, fucking Dean’s ass wide open. 

Sam didn’t stop until his balls were pressed tight against the cheeks of Dean’s ass, as promised, and then he came with a shout, his fingers digging into Dean’s hips. 

Dean’s fist tightened around his cock, jerking himself off to another climax as the werewolf’s cock knotted inside him. 

“God, Dean, you feel so good,” Sam gasped, his hips still thrusting clumsily as his orgasm wound down. 

“Yeah, I do,” Dean panted, smirking over his shoulder. 

“Jerk.” 

“Bitch— _ah_!” Dean’s insult changed to a strangled yelp as Sam stood, hauling Dean up with him. 

“Careful,” the alpha warned. “We’re tied together…” He rocked his hips back, letting Dean feel the tug against his ass as Sam’s knotted cock lodged tight. Sam grinned as he met Dean’s eyes in the mirror, full of mischief. “Either one of us slips and falls, we’re both going to be in a world of hurt.” 

“You crazy bastard. What is this, the werewolf version of the _Kama Sutra_?”

The big alpha just laughed and settled himself on the stone tiled tub surround, taking Dean down with him, seating him on his lap, Dean’s legs spread wide over his muscular thighs. Sam wrapped one arm around Dean’s shoulders, the other around his waist, and yanked him back against his chest. He chuckled as Dean squirmed, but those golden eyes darkened when he met Dean’s eyes in the mirror. 

“Baby, you’re not going anywhere,” Sam growled, “not until I fill your ass so full of cum you can’t take another drop.” 

“Dude. Cheesy porno lines, now? Really?” Dean taunted, only to snarl as Sam grabbed one of his nipples, pinching down hard and twisting until his angry growls turned to submissive whimpers. 

“Grab that cock and get back to work.” Sam didn’t let loose until he felt Dean’s ass clench around him and saw Dean grip his own cock in his fist, stroking it in time to the rhythmic caresses of his hot, tight channel around Sam’s cock. The werewolf’s climax began to build almost immediately and he dipped his head to nuzzle at Dean’s shoulder, grazing the faint traces of scar tissue with his fangs. With a deep, satisfied growl, Sam climaxed, his cock jerking and pulsing thick ropes of cum deep into his not-brother’s willing ass. 

Dean moaned and tilted his head to the side, offering the alpha better access, and Sam happily obliged him, biting and sucking hard at his neck and shoulder. “Come again for me, baby,” he crooned, and joined in as Dean tensed and shuddered with the force of his orgasm, milking Sam’s rowdy cock of another white-hot, creamy load. 

Sam shifted his grip to Dean’s thighs, lifting Dean’s spread legs up as far as his knotted cock would allow. Dean tried and failed to stifle a whine as he felt the tug of it still tying them together. 

“Lift your balls up,” Sam demanded, looking at their reflection in the mirror, and chuckled when Dean obediently cupped them, heavy and hanging low from the heat of the bath, too dazed with lust to offer up any of his usual smart-ass comments. Sam devoured the sight of his cock balls-deep in Dean’s ass, Dean's hole stretched obscenely wide to accommodate Sam’s girth. 

“One more load, Dean… Work for it.” Sam watched in the mirror as Dean’s tender pink hole flexed submissively around his shaft. Within seconds that hot caress brought him to one final climax, fingers digging into Dean’s thighs as he shot his load. That golden-eyed gaze returned to the mirror as his orgasm finally ebbed, reveling in the reflection of his monster cock buried in Dean’s ass, pearly strands of cum leaking from that well-fucked hole. The werewolf let out a low growl of appreciation at the deliciously pornographic sight. 

“Oh, baby, picturing you like this...I’ll be jacking off to that image long after this curse is lifted and you've moved on,” Sam murmured wryly.


	12. Magic

Back on the road early the next morning, Dean drove for a few hours before pulling into a small town and following Sam’s directions to a shop the werewolf knew of to buy magical components. From the street, the place looked like an ordinary head shop, the display window full of colorful glass hookahs, tie-dyed t-shirts, and cheap beaded jewelry. 

“No, this is the real deal,” Sam assured him. “It’s run by werewolves, too. They’ll have at least some of the ingredients we need for the counter-spell to break the curse.”

“You mean ‘snips and snails and puppy-dog tails’?” Dean pulled a face as they walked into the store. “Sam, your world is bass-ackwards. It’s insane.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “It is what it is, Dean. Why? What do you consider sane magical spell components?”

“Oh, demon blood, eye of newt, toe of frog…”

“Talk about ass-backwards,” Sam chuckled. 

Dean let out a low, appreciative whistle as they approached the counter. A lovely young woman was stocking shelves while another, equally beautiful girl was behind the counter at the cash register. “Sam, are all werewolves smokin’ hot?” he asked in a stage whisper. 

“Why yes, we are, darlin’.” The girl stocking the shelves stood up, running her eyes over Dean and licking her lips, revealing a quick glimpse of fang-like canine teeth. Her golden eyes sparkled with amusement. “What can we help you two boys with today?” she purred.

“Rein it in, Elisabeth.” Another woman, also a werewolf, stepped through the curtained doorway behind the counter. Older than the first two, perhaps in her mid-fifties, Dean couldn’t help but note that she was still very attractive. She looked up at Sam. “I remember when you first started hunting, Sam Winchester, and now I hear the Dark Moon Brotherhood’s put you under a curse.” Her nostrils flared as her eyes focused on Dean and she seemed to be using her sense of smell as much as her sense of sight. “Ah. I take it the newly bitten fellow, here, is your mate?” 

“Only until we can lift this curse, “ Sam said hastily, and Dean was amused to see a blush color Sam’s cheekbones. “I’m hoping you could help us with this list, Eleanor.” He passed over the list of spell ingredients they’d copied down from one of Chuck Shurley’s tomes and they all watched as she read it.

“Renee, get a pound of snails out of the freezer. Elisabeth, there ought to be a box of puppy-dog’s tails back in storage. Bring out, oh, a half dozen ought to do it. You know, Sam,” she said as the two younger women scurried off to do her bidding, “for most of the other items on that list your best bet would be—”

“One step ahead of you, Eleanor,” Sam interrupted. 

Dean gave him a skeptical look, wondering what he might be keeping from him, but just then the young women returned and he favored them both with a mega-watt smile. "Elisabeth, right?" he purred as the brunette offered him the bag she'd been sent to fetch. Dean's expression went from appreciative to grossed out in an instant as he glanced down at the clear plastic ziplock bag with its contents of severed tails. “Well, that’s disgusting.” 

“I wish I could say they were cruelty-free, but at least we get them from a reputable breeder and the puppies receive veterinary care once their poor little tails are docked,” Eleanor said. 

“I don’t even want to know where ‘snips’ come from,” Dean joked. 

Sam grimaced. “Trust me, Dean, you really don’t.” He pulled out his wallet. “What do we owe you, Eleanor?”

“Nothing,” she said firmly. “Anyone fighting against the Dark Moon Brotherhood is pack, as far as I’m concerned. Anything we can do to help, you just ask.” 

“Anything…” the werewolf named Renee added with a giggle and a significant look at the bulge straining at the fly of Sam’s jeans. 

Eleanor rolled her eyes, but said, “If the curse is troubling you I’m sure my girls wouldn’t mind giving you boys a hand…” She smirked as Sam literally growled, wrapping his arm around Dean’s waist in a possessive display. “Well, you can hardly blame them for getting hot and bothered, bringing that gorgeous omega in here just reeking of heat,” she chuckled. 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Sam said curtly, steering Dean toward the door. "See you around, Eleanor, and thank you again for the components." 

“Sam. I can’t believe you’re turning down an orgy with hot, lesbian werewolf chicks,” Dean protested as the door to the shop closed behind them. 

“Shut up, Dean. If they were lesbians why were they so interested in sex with you?” Sam kept a firm grip on his horny not-older-brother, steering him into a narrow alley between two storefronts. 

“Hot, _bisexual_ werewolf chicks… Even better,” Dean grinned, but Sam shut him up, slamming him up against the brick wall of the shop and shoving his tongue down Dean’s throat as he ground their hips together. 

“You’ve got to forget about human sexual orientation,” he lectured once they’d done what was necessary to appease the curse and were leaving the alley. “It’s not about gay or straight or bi. For our kind, sexual attraction is all about dominance.” 

“So Eleanor, there, gets to have a harem of hot, lesbian—Sorry, hot _omega_ chicks because she’s, what? Older? How come I don’t get to be the alpha, then? I’m the older brother,” Dean pointed out. 

“Gee, I don’t know, Dean...Maybe because I’ve been a werewolf all my life, and you haven’t even been through a full moon yet and you're basically clueless?” Sam’s voice betrayed his exasperation. “Hey, look, there’s a diner up the street. Why don’t you go order lunch and I’ll meet you there.”

“Sure.” Dean snickered as Sam veered off, heading toward another store with covered windows and discreet signage... A sex shop. Well, if his little not-brother wanted to pick up the latest copy of _Busty Asian Beauties_ or whatever, that was his business…

**...**

...They hadn’t been back on the road very long before the effects of the curse began to manifest yet again, their quick make-out session in the alley clearly not enough to keep it at bay. Dean could never decide which was worse, the throbbing pain spreading from his hand up his arm, or the urgent ache of his rock-hard cock. 

Sam pulled into a roadside rest stop, his face twisted in a grimace of pain as he parked the black Mustang, and the two hunters hurried toward the low brick building that housed the restrooms. They waited impatiently until a few other travelers finished using the facilities, then ducked into the handicapped access stall at the far end of the row. 

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulders, threading his fingers through the alpha’s long hair and dragging his head down for a desperate kiss. Sam yanked him in close, hips thrusting forward to grind their rigid cocks against one another. Dean gave a whimper of relief as the pain of the curse eased at the contact. 

Sam turned Dean around and pushed him face-first up against the flimsy metal partition wall, big hands working the buttons of his fly open and yanking his jeans down his thighs. The omega whimpered again in frustration as the alpha stepped back and fumbled with a package that he pulled from his jacket pocket. 

“Shh,” Sam murmured low in Dean’s ear as the door to the restroom banged open and another traveler entered. Dean heard the crinkle and tear of packaging being opened and then Sam was pressing something into Dean’s hand. The texture was smooth and rubbery. Looking down at it, bemused, Dean saw a black rubber butt plug. 

“What the—Oh, hell no, Sammy,” he hissed, but Sam’s warm, callused fingers folded around his, forcing him to hold on to the toy. 

“Shh,” the werewolf whispered again, close enough that his breath tickled Dean’s ear, the bulge of his denim-covered cock pressed up against Dean’s exposed ass. “So I got to thinking about how, as we get closer to the full moon, the curse is forcing us to fuck more and more often.” 

“Yeah, so quit wasting time and get to it,” Dean growled. He tried to turn around to confront Sam, but the alpha pressed him up against the wall, holding him in place. 

“I also got to thinking about what I told you back at the head shop, about dominance and submission,” he went on, speaking at a normal volume as the restroom emptied again. “I figured, why not try and appease the curse by exploiting that dynamic?”

“Because I’m not going to let you dominate me, that’s why not.” Dean’s voice rose, too, and he glared at Sam over his shoulder even as his cock gave a needy twitch. He didn't want to be submissive... What he really wanted was his not-baby-brother’s cock buried to the hilt in his ass. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Dean. “Son of a bitch, Sam. Let me go.” To his surprise, the pressure of Sam’s hand pushing him up against the partition eased, even as he continued to press the latex toy into Dean’s hand. 

“We’re going to at least give it a try,” he said firmly.

“No, we’re not—”

“ _Dean_.” Sam’s voice dropped a full octave. “Shut up and put the plug in your ass. Now,” he growled. 

Dean took the butt plug and the foil packet of lubricant Sam forced into his hands, an involuntary shudder of arousal running through him at the blatant command. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered again, all too aware of Sam’s heated gaze on him as he slicked the toy with lube, his hands clumsy and shaking with frustrated desire. 

Sam leaned against the opposite wall, palming the bulge of his denim-covered cock with a smirk as Dean shoved his pants down around his knees and propped one booted foot up on the toilet. Dean scowled at him, but the urge to obey his alpha not-brother was too strong to resist. He lined the plug up with his pink, puckered hole, grunting a protest as he pressed it into the tight ring of muscle. Dean pushed the toy in, slowly but without stopping even as his muscles clenched, protesting the invasion, feeling the heat of Sam’s golden-eyed gaze on him like a caress the entire time. 

“It’s big,” Dean groused, clinging to a token rebellion. 

Sam smirked. “ _I’m_ big. Wouldn’t want you to get bored.” He pulled Dean in for another passionate, lingering kiss as the omega finished adjusting his clothes and doing up his fly. The restroom door banged open again but Sam didn’t bother waiting for the room to clear, opening the door to the stall and pushing Dean out ahead of him. 

Dean rolled his eyes at this world’s Sam and his exhibitionist streak, in such stark contrast to his real brother Sam’s reserve. It could be worse, he reminded himself. The alpha could have decided to fuck him on the hood of the Mustang… And he’d have been hard-pressed to resist. 

“Feel better?” Sam asked as he pulled back onto the highway. 

Oddly enough, Dean did feel better, the pain of the curse completely gone, though they’d barely done more than kiss. He felt a lot better, if he was honest, but his pushy, domineering not-baby-brother didn’t need to know that, Dean decided. Besides, his cock was still rock-hard, and the plug in his ass wasn’t helping his mood, making him feel stuffed full and submissive and therefore grouchy. “No,” he snapped. 

“You’re such a brat,” Sam smirked. 

“And you’re such a bitch,” Dean retorted. 

Sam chuckled. “Your attitude still needs some adjusting. Take out your cock,” he ordered. 

Dean didn’t have to be told twice, his needy cock’s demand for attention overriding any concern about passing motorists getting an impromptu peep show. He undid his fly, letting his cock spring up out of his lap, long and thick and purple-veined. Dean heard a sharp intake of breath from the driver’s side and smirked over at Sam. “Keep your eyes on the road, Sammy.” 

“Let me worry about driving. You jerk yourself off, jerk.” The werewolf angled the rear-view mirror sharply, giving himself a good view as Dean obediently wrapped his fist around his cock.

It always amazed Dean how his heightened senses made every touch so thrilling, so good that he was on the brink of coming from just a single stroke. Eager for release, he set a quick pace, thrusting his cock faster and faster through his tight fist, groaning a low, wordless protest when Sam spoke up again from the driver’s seat. 

“Not so fast. I want a good show.” 

“And I want to come,” Dean growled. 

“Soon, baby. Soon,” Sam soothed. 

Dean’s resistance melted. Loosening his grip, he ran his fingers up and down the throbbing length of his cock, teasing himself with a light touch. Pre-cum dripped from the engorged head with every slow, tantalizing stroke. His hips bucked and Dean bit back a moan, acutely aware of the butt plug stretching his ass, his tight hole fluttering around it...More sensation to drive him wild. He stroked up his cock and ground down on the toy, unable to stop himself now from moaning aloud with pleasure. “I want to come,” Dean said again, but this time his tone was pleading. 

“Soon…” Sam promised again. He laid his hand on Dean’s thigh, the touch inflaming Dean’s desire even as his not-brother’s words calmed him just enough to hang on. 

“Please…” He stroked up his cock, squirming in the seat as he ground his ass down on the plug. Sam could have driven right off the road and Dean doubted he’d even notice. His cock was so hard it ached, pre-cum leaking from it continuously now as he begged for his release. “Please, Sam… Want it so bad… Need it…” 

“Come for me, baby.” Sam gripped Dean’s thigh. Dean threw his head back against the headrest with a low, keening moan as his orgasm shook his whole body with wave after wave of pleasure. In those long moments of ecstasy, every bit of pain and humiliation were more than worth it. If this was typical for werewolves, he’d endure the full moon transformations and the curse as well and consider it a fair trade. 

It took a long time to come down from the high and tuck his well-satisfied cock back into his jeans. 

“Feel better?” Sam asked again, grinning as he re-adjusted the mirror. 

“Not going to lie, Sam, I feel great,” Dean admitted. He felt drowsy and sated now, drifting in a haze of contentment. “Hey...You going to tell me where we’re headed next?” 

“Go to sleep,” Sam sighed. “We’ll talk about it when you wake up.”


	13. Confession

Dean woke as the ‘69 Mustang jounced over a bump in the unpaved road. He blinked, taking in the landscape of low-growing brush, rocks, and the occasional tree. Sam must have driven for hours while he slept. Dean stretched luxuriously, feeling well-rested and comfortable, although that damned plug in his ass was going to have to go soon, he thought with a trace of resentment. “Where are we?” he asked. “What’s out here in the back end of beyond?” 

“Nothing. This is just a pitstop,” Sam said. He drove another hundred yards to where a stand of trees grew next to a stream and killed the engine, turning in the driver’s seat to give Dean one of his mischievous grins. “Watching you come with that plug in your ass was fun, but that was hours ago.”

“You can take it and shove it in _your_ ass,” Dean offered generously, all innocence, but Sam just snorted. 

“I had something else in mind.” He opened the driver’s side door, got out, and leaned down to look back in at Dean, still sitting in the passenger’s seat. “Strip naked, but keep your boots on.” 

A small, stubborn part of him wanted to argue as Sam strolled away from the car and down by the water, but mostly, he just wanted sex, however Sam wanted to give it to him, his cock already stiffening as he undid the laces on his boots and kicked them off so he could shimmy out of his boxer shorts and jeans. Dean stepped out of the car and stripped off his shirt. 

Naked, he felt vulnerable, especially in contrast to Sam, who was still fully dressed as he loitered beside the stream, skipping stones across the water. At least his bossy, demanding bitch of a not-brother had deigned to let him keep his boots, probably because of the stony ground, but with the boot knife Dean always carried he wouldn’t be caught unarmed, either. He put them back on, not bothering to lace them up. 

Then he reached back between his legs and eased the butt plug out of his ass, reasoning his mate would have a better use for his tight hole soon enough. With a smirk, Dean gave in to the urge to rebel and threw the toy far off into the bushes, chuckling at the thought of some backcountry hiker finding it among the boulders someday. 

Fresh lube was definitely a good idea. Dean reached into the back seat of the Mustang and rummaged in Sam’s bag. Unsurprisingly, there was a tube of lubricant among the neatly-folded clothes--not so neat now that Dean had rifled through them--and what was undoubtedly an eclectic collection of books. He wasn’t about to take the time to peruse them, much more concerned with prepping his ass for some hot werewolf sex.

Hot in more ways than one. The late afternoon sun blazed down on his bare shoulders as he clomped down to the stream to join Sam, acutely aware of the heat caressing his naked body, the faint, cooling breeze off the water a sharp contrast. 

Sam turned, grinning as he looked him up and down. “That’s a surprisingly good look on you.” 

Dean preened. “Dude. I can make anything look good,” he scoffed. Up close and wide awake now, he could see the lines of pain and fatigue etched around his not-brother’s golden eyes, the tension in his body, and he reached instinctively for Sam’s left hand with his own, joining the cursed rings. “You’re hurting,” he scolded gruffly. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

“I’m better now.” Sam pulled him in close, brushing a brief, tantalizing kiss against his lips before breaking away. 

Dean growled a protest, but Sam just smirked, ambling over to sit on a broad, sun-warmed boulder beside the stream. “Come here.” 

Dean clomped over the uneven, stony ground in his big, black, steel-toed boots to stand in front of him, his cock rock-hard in anticipation. Sam eyed it hungrily as he undid his fly and pushed his jeans down his thighs, freeing his own rampant cock. Dean did more than just look. He stepped closer and reached for it, feeling it twitch eagerly in his hand. 

“Hot out here,” Sam noted laconically, and stripped off his t-shirt as Dean dropped to his knees, straddling Sam’s hips, lining the head of Sam’s cock up snug against his asshole.

“About to get even hotter.” Dean ran his hands across his gigantor not-brother’s broad shoulders and down the sculpted muscles of his chest, reveling in the sensation of smooth, heated skin and taut muscle under his palms. He rocked his ass against Sam’s cock, teasing it up against his tight entrance. 

Sam moaned low in his throat as Dean took his sweet time, driving him wild as he moved slowly up and down, letting the head of Sam’s cock just start to slip inside his ass, then raising up again, denying him entry. It wasn’t long before the alpha had had enough. Gripping Dean’s hips tight, he rocked his pelvis up, pushing half his length into the omega with one brutal stroke. 

“Sorry.” Sam couldn’t help but smirk as his bratty mate hissed in a breath, eyes widening as his ass was impaled on Sam’s cock. 

“Are not.” Dean dipped his head, brushing their lips together teasingly, only to sink his teeth abruptly into Sam’s lower lip. 

Growling approval at the taste of his own blood on his tongue, Sam claimed his mate’s mouth in a scorching kiss. “Ready for more?” he challenged when they finally broke apart for air. 

“You kidding? I was born ready—” Dean’s boast trailed off into a long, shuddering moan as Sam gave him another taste of his monster cock, fucking his ass wide open with another deep, satisfying thrust. It took a long moment for the white-hot stars swirling in his vision to fade. When they did, Dean gave the alpha a bored look, positively designed to get his blood boiling. “Really, Sammy? That all you got?” he drawled. 

The werewolf couldn’t help but chuckle at his still-mostly-human not-brother’s antics, even as his eyes darkened, pupils dilating with pure lust. “Always plenty more for you, baby,” he promised, and thrust his cock in to the hilt. 

Dean wasn’t exactly caught off guard—getting Sam to give him the full length of that thick, monster cock of his had been the whole point of the teasing, after all—but he still couldn’t stop another deep moan from tearing out of his throat at the mingled sensation of pleasure and pain as Sam skewered his ass. Dean gripped his shoulders and started to ride, intending to set a fast pace, but Sam’s hands on his his hips slowed him down. “Sam?” 

“Shh...Let’s take our time,” he murmured, his expression oddly tender as he looked up at Dean, whiskey-colored eyes intense, big hands moving down to stroke his thighs, then back up to encircle his waist and cup his ass as Dean rode him. Sam rocked his hips up to meet each downward thrust, adjusting the angle of penetration, seeking that extra-sensitive spot that would make his mate writhe in pleasure. 

Dean almost started to laugh at the comically nerdy look of concentration on Sam’s face, but the mood had changed. There was something about the intensity of his not-brother’s gaze, the gentleness of his caresses, that was different than any of the other times they’d ever fucked… And then Sam’s cock hit that sweet spot and sent a jolt of pleasure zinging through him with every slow, sensual thrust, and he came with a deep-throated growl. 

Sam joined him an instant later, his cock jerking rhythmically inside him as it pulsed out its release. Another desperate growl tore from Dean’s throat as he felt it knot, tying them together so he couldn’t pull away. Not that he wanted to, not with Sam still coming inside him, golden eyes finally fluttering closed as he whimpered his name. “Dean...”

“Shh.” He flexed his tight ring of muscle around his mate’s throbbing cock, murmuring approval as Sam convulsed with pleasure, slick with sweat and sobbing out his name. The alpha’s orgasm shook them both with its intensity but Sam didn’t stop coming, another climax starting to build immediately as the first one finally ebbed. Dean had enough experience by now with the super-charged sexuality of werewolves to know Sam wasn’t going to be letting him off his cock any time soon, but this was something new. His ass clamped down around every twitch of that big, insatiable cock inside him, each hot, fluttering caress setting off another rhythmic pulse as the big alpha growled his approval. 

“Been saving it all up just for you.” Sam took Dean’s cock in hand, fisting it tight at the base while he stroked the other hand up and down the thick, veined shaft, letting the omega thrust into his slick palm on every pass. Sam locked eyes with him again, those golden eyes brimming with emotion, letting Dean know without words just how much his mate wanted him. “Going to fill you up now, baby.” 

“Oh god, Sammy…” The words trailed off into pleading whimpers and growls as Dean rocked his hips as far as the alpha’s knotted cock would allow him, grinding back until the head of Sam’s cock hit his sweet spot, then thrusting forward into Sam’s hand. A rush of heat pulsed into Dean’s eager ass as Sam came. Dean damn near passed out as his mate loosened his tight grip on his cock and he spilled his own release over his hand. He slumped, letting his head loll on Sam’s chest as the alpha’s final climax pumped him full of rope after thick, creamy rope of cum. Sam’s chest was slick with sweat under Dean’s cheek, and he could feel the trickle of his own sweat running down his back and into the crack of his ass, but for the moment he was too dazed and spent to care. 

Sam lifted his head and pressed a sloppy kiss to his mouth. “So fuckin’ good,” he murmured, lifting him off his well-satisfied cock, holding on to his hips, steadying him until Dean recovered enough to stand on his own again. Sam picked up his t-shirt and started to tenderly wipe the sticky trails of his cum off Dean’s thighs. 

“I got this.” Dean took the soft cloth from Sam’s hands and turned away, suddenly embarrassed by the strangely intimate act of being cleaned up by the alpha. “I think it’s about time you told me where we’re heading next,” he said gruffly. There was a long pause and when Dean turned back he saw that now it was Sam’s turn to be embarrassed. 

The werewolf hung his head, devoting an entirely unnecessary amount of attention to his fly as he tucked his cock and balls back into his jeans and buttoned up. There was a flush of color staining Sam’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat or the sex they’d just shared. 

“Sammy?” 

“We need to see a man named Bobby Singer.” 

Dean’s mouth dropped open and he blinked stupidly for a moment. “Bobby’s alive?” It had never occurred to him to ask his not-brother about the older hunter. 

“Yeah, he’s—” Sam stopped and blinked back at Dean. “You know Bobby? Your world’s Bobby?”

“Jesus, Sam, the man was the closest thing I had to a father since Dad died,” Dean growled. He squared off against the taller werewolf, naked but for his boots, Sam’s sweat and jizz stained shirt dangling forgotten in his hand, and glared at his idiot moose of a baby not-brother. “You’ve known since we left Chuck’s that we were heading to see Bobby, and you didn’t see fit to even mention it to me?” 

“I didn’t think! My world’s Dean never even met Bobby!” Sam protested.

“Then why the guilt trip, huh? You’ve been dodging the question, Sam, don’t pretend you haven’t. What is it about this world’s version of Bobby that you didn’t want me to find out?” 

Sam turned away, running a hand through his hair, leaving the sweat-damp strands to fall back over his eyes as he walked back to the Mustang, shoulders slumped. 

Furious, Dean clomped after him in his unlaced black combat boots. “Tell me, dammit!” 

“Bobby and his wife Karen run a rehab place for werewolves.” Sam kept his back to him, leaning against the passenger side door of the Mustang. 

“Rehab? _Drug rehab_?” For the second time, Dean found himself blinking stupidly. “What, werewolves in this world get reefer madness?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Sam barked out a humorless laugh. “That’s how I met Bobby Singer, Dean... I was an addict.”


	14. Flashback II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos, comments, and most of all, thanks for reading!

Flashback:

Dean stifled a groan as he woke, protesting the pain in his shoulder and the raw skin of his back. Cracking his eyes open, he saw that he'd been laid out on a camping mat in what he assumed was some sort of abandoned industrial building. Stretching cautiously, mindful of his injuries, he found himself shackled, arms tethered by a length of chain to a pipe. Someone had removed his shirt. Judging by the bite and the scratches on his back, the garment had probably been shredded. The same someone was in all likelihood, Dean thought, responsible for taking off his boots. At least they’d left him his jeans, and enough slack in the chain to reach his pockets. He let out a low, frustrated growl as his fingers came up empty. No lockpick. Not even so much as a boxcutter or a pen. He wouldn’t be escaping as quickly as he’d hoped. 

Memories of the night before flooded back and Dean craned his neck to examine the wound at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. How was he even still alive? He’d suffered enough injuries during more than fifteen years of hunting to know that the werewolf attack should have left him in a hospital bed, barely clinging to life. Instead, from what he could see, the wounds were closed, well on their way to being completely healed. Had he been passed out for days? A glance at his wristwatch confirmed that no, he’d only been unconscious for a few hours. 

There was only one explanation for his rapid recovery from what should have been a near-mortal wound… He’d been infected with lycanthropy. He was a werewolf. The stress of the past twenty-four hours caught up to him, then. He’d been yanked out of his own world into some freakish alternate reality, the demon he’d been pursuing somehow turning into a werewolf… And now he’d been bitten, infected, with no idea, still, where he was or who was holding him captive. Dean cursed violently, thrashing and yanking at the chains until his wrists were raw. 

When he eventually calmed, he made a methodical search of the area he could reach. There had to be something here he could use to pick the locks on the cuffs and free himself, but at last he had to admit defeat. There was nothing. His unknown captor had even taken his belt. Resigned, Dean gave in to his exhaustion and dozed off. The soft tread of footsteps woke him some hours later. 

“I don’t get it,” a voice came from above him. “You look like my dead brother, but you dress like me… Right down to the knives and the fake credit cards in your wallet.”

Dean stared up, up, and up at the figure towering over him as he lay on the floor. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed cynically an instant later. He gestured impatiently at the bag of take-out food dangling from the stranger’s hand. “Yeah, you look just like _my_ dead brother, except for the freaky yellow eyes. That better be a cheeseburger and fries in that bag,” he threatened. 

“Or what?” Werewolf-Sam smirked and tossed the bag at him. 

“You tell me, man.” Dean tore open the wrapping and took a big, satisfying bite of greasy, truck-stop goodness. At least the food in this crazy, fucked up world was just as delicious as back home. “I figure if you wanted me dead I’d be dead already.”

“Sorry about the shackles,” his not-brother said with apparent sympathy, dropping down to squat just out of Dean’s reach, “but I don’t even know what you are.”

“Well for starters I’m guessing I’m a werewolf, as of last night,” Dean said dryly, resolutely ignoring the lurch of panic in his stomach. He recalled the warning shout just before the rogue werewolf attacked him, Werewolf-Sam’s warning. "You’re a werewolf yourself... One that hunts other werewolves?” Dean shook his head, bemused. “I’m a little confused myself as to just what you are.” 

“I hunt rogues.” Sam’s voice was cold. “Most werewolves are decent, law-abiding people.” 

“Most. You say that as if there’s a lot of werewolves.” 

“About ten in one hundred are born with the mutation...Like me,” the tall werewolf-hunter said. 

Not-Sam’s voice was calm, but Dean, familiar with his own world's Sam, could read the subtle tension in the set of his shoulders, the defensiveness in those golden eyes.

“What happens when you turn?” Dean tried to keep his tone just as neutral. His not-brother spoke of lycanthropy as if it was just another disease, but Dean couldn’t see it quite that way. He was a monster now. 

“You’ll have urges. It’s best if you’re locked up for your first full moon, until you know for sure how you’ll react.” Sam's voice was kind, his tone gentle as he explained. “But like I said, most people with lycanthropy manage it without ever giving in to the bloodlust.” 

“Not the one who attacked me last night.”

“Yeah. That’s why there’s hunters like me,” Sam said firmly. "I'd spent days tracking that bastard down. Whoever or whatever you are, you were really in the wrong place at the wrong time last night." 

"Dude. You have no idea how true that is." 

 

 

Present:

“There’s a drug called bane… Affects werewolves pretty much like heroin does humans. I was addicted to it,” Sam admitted in a subdued voice as Dean pulled back onto the highway. 

“Okay, so...What happened?” 

Sam glanced over at the older hunter, so like and yet so unlike his real brother. “So, I was an addict. I lied, I stole. I let people down, Dean. Dad, my brother...My pack.” The alpha’s voice was raw with shame. 

“Bite anybody?” Dean deadpanned. “Turn any innocent humans? Kill any? ...Start an apocalypse?” 

“None of that, no.” Sam shook his head, scoffing out an incredulous bark of laughter. “What I did was bad enough.” 

“Yeah, I get that, Sammy. I also get that you beat it, that you’ve at least tried to make things right with the people you let down.”

“You sound so sure of yourself.” The werewolf stared out the window as the drab, flat landscape rolled past.

“No, I’m sure of _you_. And I know a thing or two about addiction. Trust me, if you were still hooked on this bane or whatever the hell it’s called, I’d know,” he said. “Even when Sam denied it, I knew when my brother was jonesing for demon blood…” He looked over at Sam with a wicked grin. “And when Sam and I were hunting in my world, we had a lot more opportunity to try and hide things from one another than you and I have had.” 

“The curse,” Sam growled. “Well, Bobby will have the rest of the spell components to break it,” Sam said, “or he’ll know where to get them.” 

“If anybody does, it’ll be Bobby Singer,” Dean agreed...

 **...**

...They stopped at a motel for the night. Dean would have preferred to drive straight through, eager to see Bobby and his wife Karen alive and well, but they had to have a break to alleviate the insatiable demands of the curse. Dean choked back a humorless laugh at the thought of driving up to Bobby’s place and dry-humping in desperation on the hood of the Mustang. No, definitely not something either he or Sam would want to expose the older man to. 

The alpha was still subdued when Dean finished his turn in the shower, silently clicking off the television remote and crossing the room to the bed where Dean sat with a towel wrapped around his waist as he set the cheap plastic alarm clock on the bedside table. Dean heard the rustle of fabric from Sam’s side of the bed as his not-brother stripped off his clothes in preparation for sleep.

...Or maybe not. His eyebrows rose as Sam dropped down, naked, on the grungy carpet in front of him. Dean’s cock gave an eager twitch as Sam undid the snug fold of the towel around his waist, tugging it open. The muscles of Sam’s shoulders bunched as he positioned himself lower on the floor to give Dean's rapidly hardening cock a long, slow lick. A moan tore out of Dean’s throat at the sight of his alpha not-brother, normally so dominant and in charge, kneeling submissively between his legs and lapping wantonly at the head of his cock.

Another slow, sensual lick, and Dean’s cock was rock-hard. Dean threaded his fingers through Sam’s hair, trying to ground himself as his heightened perceptions went wild at the wet, teasing sensation of Sam’s tongue running over his length. With every lick Sam paused to lavish attention on the sensitive head of his cock, swirling the tip of his tongue around it until Dean’s hips damned near bucked off the mattress. 

Dean was dying for Sam to take his cock down his throat, but of course his annoying little-not-brother just had to tease. He moaned again as Sam dipped his head and took each of his balls into his mouth in turn, sucking gently and rolling them on his tongue. Dean took his cock in hand, stroking it lightly as he ran his fingers through Sam’s hair. “That feels good, Sammy,” he encouraged him, trailing off into another moan of pleasure as Sam sucked and hummed. 

Then Sam was knocking his hand away, replacing it with that sinfully talented tongue of his. Dean whimpered as Sam took his time tonguing the head of his cock, lapping up the pre-cum leaking freely from the slit. Stars swam in his vision as the alpha wrapped his lips around him, taking him in. “Finally,” Dean growled. It was a struggle not to grab him by the ears and fuck right into his throat, but Sam was done teasing and took in his full length. Dean could feel his throat convulsing as he swallowed around him, velvet heat caressing his straining cock.

He couldn’t stop himself from bucking up off the edge of the cheap, sagging mattress, thrusting into his mate’s throat. Sam moaned, but the sound was pleased, not pained, the alpha’s big hands stroking his thighs, urging him on. “Going to come,” Dean panted. His back arched and he threw his head back with a growl of satisfaction as Sam sucked him off to an intense climax. 

Dean came down slowly from the high, Sam’s lips still locked around the base of his cock, his throat caressing the shaft as he swallowed. Dean’s cock was still rock-hard, still eager for more, and he sprawled back on the bed, laughing ruefully at his hyper-charged sex drive. Sam slapped his hip, urging him further up onto the bed, and crawled up his body to straddle his legs as he lay back on the mattress. Another whimper tore from Dean’s throat as Sam maintained suction as they shifted position, never letting go of his cock. It was clear he hadn’t finished with him yet. The alpha’s head bobbed as he set his own pace, his full lower lip dragging up the underside of Dean’s cock with every stroke, his tongue swirling around the head in a wicked caress. 

Dean growled and moaned as his mate worked his cock expertly, driving him to the brink of a second climax in just a few minutes. Sam took his cock impossibly deep with every stroke, tongue flicking out to lap at his balls each time Dean hilted himself in his throat. He felt another climax building, impossible to deny, and couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up off the bed wildly, grinding his cock into Sam’s willing mouth. Dean’s hands fisted in the sheets and his heels dug into the mattress as he came, sobbing out Sam’s name as his vision damn near blacked out. 

As before, Sam kept his lips wrapped tight around him, suckling softly as Dean’s cock pulsed out its release. Dean felt as if his orgasm would go on forever, every caress of his brother’s sweet throat sending another throb of pleasure through him. Finally he sprawled out on the bed, drifting in a haze as Sam cradled his softening cock in the warmth of his mouth. He wanted to plead with the alpha, remind him that he was still only human, that he had no more to give, but his mind felt like mush, every muscle in his body relaxed, and he couldn’t be bothered to try and string together the words. 

Dean was almost asleep when Sam finally pulled off his sated cock. Dazed, barely focused green eyes fluttered open just long enough to catch a glimpse of his not-brother’s wicked grin as he lay down beside him and pulled him into his arms. 

“‘Night, jerk.” 

“ _Nnnn_ …” he muttered incoherently, and was sound asleep before Sam’s chuckle reached his ears.


	15. Home

“It’s still called Singer’s Salvage.” Dean leaned forward in the passenger seat, subconsciously straining for a better look at the old, familiar house as Sam drove down the long driveway. 

Sam scoffed. “What else would it be called? That’s what Bobby and Karen do. Salvage broken werewolves.” 

Dean ignored his not-brother’s bitter tone. Sam had been cranky since his confession of drug addiction the day before. No, that wasn’t quite right, he decided, thinking it over. The big alpha had been cranky since waking up this morning, after sucking Dean off to multiple climaxes the night before. Apparently his normally sexually dominant not-baby-brother was regretting the uncharacteristically submissive act… Or something. Dean was too excited at the prospect of seeing this world’s version of Bobby Singer, alive and well and still happily married to his beloved Karen, to worry much about Sam’s mood. 

In Dean’s own world, Bobby had gotten into hunting after his wife had been possessed by a demon. He’d been forced to kill her in self-defense, then kill her again years later after she’d been raised as a zombie. No matter what other changes Sam’s world’s Bobby might exhibit, Dean thought, it would be worth it for the man not to have suffered through that particular hell. 

In Sam’s world, most of the collection of junked cars around Bobby’s house had been replaced by neat gardens with tidy rows of thriving plants. A greenhouse loomed where Dean remembered the car crusher standing. Instead of monsters and demons, this Bobby Singer’s area of expertise was medicinal plants, particularly the magical plants that affected werewolves, whether for good or ill. Karen Singer was a pureblood like Sam, a werewolf who worked to help others of their kind live as normally as possible. 

The house was crammed with just as many books as Dean remembered from back home, though Karen’s influence could be seen in the comparative lack of liquor bottles, and Bobby still wore his trademark baseball cap as he argued over the telephone with a supplier in Japan. 

“ _Bakayarō_!” Bobby hung up the phone with an expression of disgust. “Well, my contact Hideki in Shizuoka messed up the customs forms, the idjit, but the last ingredient you need for the counter-curse will still be here two days before the full moon.”

“That’s cutting it close.” Sam’s forehead was scrunched up with worry.

“Slice of pie, anyone?” Karen Singer called from the kitchen, cutting the tension, and Dean eagerly led the charge to the table... 

**...**

“...What’s the full moon transformation like, really?” he asked her after Sam and Bobby had gone off to double check the counter-curse and make sure all the other ingredients were in order. 

“It’s painful,” Karen admitted, “but thankfully, that part is over quickly. You’ll be a wolf, with all the strength and grace and superior senses that that entails. And all the animalistic urges.” 

“So I’ll black out? Lose control? Let me guess, that’s what Bobby built the panic room for.” Dean hid his apprehension behind a casual facade. 

Karen shook her head. “No, we use the panic room for werewolves going through detox from bane. You may find the wolf difficult to control at first, but the rest of the pack will help you through it. If worst comes to worst, Bobby just won’t let you out of the cage, but I think you’ll be just fine,” she smiled. 

“I hope so. So how’d Sam get hooked on this bane, anyway?” Dean asked, changing the subject. 

“Long story...And not mine to tell,” Karen shut him down with another gentle smile, her golden eyes glowing with warmth. “The important thing is, he kicked the addiction. He’s a good man, Dean. A good wolf. I know your first priority once the curse is lifted is getting home to your own world, but I hope you’ll stick around for at least a month or two. Even if your first full moon goes smoothly, the pack here can teach you a lot about managing your lycanthropy. You’ll need that, no matter what world you wind up in.” 

Dean blinked. When was the last time he’d even seriously thought about returning to his own universe? It had been weeks. He stood, gathering up the dishes and carrying them to the sink with the familiar ease of years spent treating Bobby Singer’s place like his own home. 

Dean turned back to Karen as the sink filled with water. “You know, I may just stick around for good,” he said with a slow-growing grin as the idea took root. What was there left for him back home? Everyone he had ever loved back there was dead. And this world’s Sam, well, this Sam would never be his brother, but maybe, Dean thought, maybe he and this world’s Sam could have something just as close as that relationship, just as good. 

“Yeah, I just might, if Sammy wouldn’t mind having a partner,” he said, not caring too much how Karen might choose to interpret that. 

In fact, Karen looked delighted. “Well, it goes without saying that you and Sam both are always welcome here! Now go on, I’ll get those dishes done up...” 

**...**  

“...Glad to see you still know your way around under the hood of a car,” Dean quipped as he helped Bobby tune up Sam’s ‘69 Mustang a short while later. 

“My dad wasn’t good for much, but he was a decent mechanic,” Bobby shrugged. “Pass me that socket wrench, would ya?” 

Both men turned as Sam’s footsteps crunched on the gravel behind them. Dean immediately noted the sheen of sweat on his upper lip, the lines of tension around those inhuman, golden eyes, and it was obvious that Bobby saw the effects of the curse, too. 

“Dean,” Sam said in carefully controlled tones, “can I speak to you for a minute? Alone?” 

“There’s an old chartreuse microbus out back,” Bobby offered quickly. 

“A what?” Dean gave him a quizzical look.

“A hippie van. You know, all tricked out with a mattress and—” Bobby shook his head ruefully as the two took off for the back of the lot at top speed. “Ya idjits.” 

Sam slammed Dean up against the side of the snot-green VW bus, his fangs grazing Dean’s lips as he kissed him hungrily. Dean opened his mouth eagerly to his not-brother’s questing tongue, moaning into the kiss and grinding his hips up against Sam’s, sparking every nerve with the delicious friction of his denim-clad cock pressed tight against Sam’s hard, straining erection. 

“Come on, Sammy,” he panted, fisting his hands in Sam’s plaid shirt and pushing him back, “inside.” 

Sam hauled open the back door of the bus and they tumbled inside onto the mattress, hands already busy tearing off one another’s clothes as the door slammed behind them and the old vehicle rocked with the impact. Sam paused for a second, taking in the seventies-era decor, and let out a low whistle. The windows were blacked out, the walls and ceiling covered in orange shag carpet. There was even a mirrored disco ball suspended from the low ceiling. 

He wasn’t distracted for long, though, turning his attention back to Dean as Dean wriggled out of his jeans. Sam yanked them roughly the rest of the way down his legs and pinned him to the mattress with another scorching kiss, sliding his bare cock along Dean’s hot, eager length, stifling his lustful whimpers with his tongue thrust into his mouth.

Sam’s thick, glorious cock straining against his own hypersensitive erection drove Dean wild, overwhelming him with the hot, velvety-smooth sensation of Sam’s skin slipping and sliding against his own, both of their big, rowdy cocks already slicked with pre-cum. 

He shoved the alpha off him, flipping him onto his back on the mattress, quickly shifting position to straddle Sam’s narrow hips and set his own hard, fast, pace, frotting their cocks together in the firm grip of one big, work-calloused hand. 

Sam’s golden eyes widened at the unexpected manhandling. Usually he was the one tossing Dean around with the enhanced strength of his lycanthropy. He grinned mischievously up at Dean even as his hips bucked up off the mattress in time to Dean’s insistent stroking. “Only a few days left until the full moon. You’re getting stronger.” His grin broadened, wolfish, highlighting his oversized, wickedly pointed canine teeth. “But I can still take you.” 

In an instant, Dean found himself flipped onto his back again. “Bitch,” he teased lightly, grappling with Sam and testing his new-found strength. The two wrestled, a playful contest that didn’t distract either in the slightest from the urgent demands of their eager, aching cocks. 

Sam kept the upper hand, and now it was his strong fingers twined around both their erections, stroking them on toward a shared climax. His grin turned wicked as Dean writhed and bucked beneath him, green eyes growing unfocused and the upward thrusts of his hips growing frantic as his orgasm built. Shifting his grip to the base of Dean’s cock, Sam closed his eyes, resting his forehead on Dean’s sweat-damp bicep as his first orgasm convulsed him with a shudder, spilling its first, phantom load onto Dean’s tight abs and rock-hard cock. 

“No, Sammy… No…” Dean growled, protesting his not-brother’s tight grip around the base of his cock, holding him back from his own release. 

Sam let out a growl of his own, a deep sound of pure satisfaction as he rode out his climax, teasing Dean’s aching cock with the sweet friction of every hot pulse. “Shh… You’ll get to come, baby, but not until I’m knotted inside you.” He drew back, only releasing the omega’s straining erection after Dean huffed out an aggrieved sigh of acquiescence. 

“Sooner you flip over and spread that ass for me like a good boy, the sooner you’ll get yours,” Sam taunted.  
“Son of a bitch,” Dean groaned, but Sam didn’t have to tell him twice. In an instant Dean was face-down on the mattress on his knees, ass canted high in the air, both hands spreading his cheeks wide for his maddeningly domineering little not-brother. 

“That’s better--” Sam’s words trailed off into an incoherent moan of appreciation at the sight of Dean’s puckered pink hole on wanton display, and Dean’s face flushed with a mix of pleasure and humiliation. 

“What are you waiting for?” he growled. 

“Bossy, bossy.” Sam reached between Dean’s legs. Those big balls of his were too tantalizing to resist. He rolled them between his fingers, stroking each heavy orb until Dean’s growls turned to submissive whimpers. Sam keep on tugging them as he lubed up two fingers, thrusting and scissoring them into Dean’s ass mercilessly. “You look so good, baby, all hot and bothered, desperate for my cock,” Sam crooned, and reached further between his legs, running the cursed silver ring up the underside of Dean’s straining shaft. 

The contact drove Dean wild with pleasure, even as the touch of the ring left a lingering trail of heat that blurred the border between pleasure and pain. “Fuck me, Sam,” he pleaded in a low baritone broken with lust. “Want to feel you come inside me.” 

Sam gripped Dean’s hips and thrust into him with a deep, possessive growl. The full moon was exerting its influence on Sam, too. There was nothing more he wanted at that moment than to claim his mate, take complete possession of him and fill him to the hilt with rope after rope of white-hot cum… And the big alpha generally got exactly what he wanted. 

Another deep, satisfying thrust, and then another, and Dean shouted Sam’s name as he felt Sam’s cock shift inside him, knotting, stretching him tight to accommodate every hot, horny inch as Sam let out his own deep-throated howl of pure gratification. Dean followed immediately, balls tightening and cock arching against his taut belly as it pulsed its own release in time with Sam’s cock pumping its first creamy load into him. 

They came together, vision blacking out except for white-hot sparks of pure pleasure that burst behind their eyelids. Dean sighed as he finally felt Sam lift him upright, pulling him back to lean against his broad, muscular chest as the last few spasms of their shared climax shuddered through them. Dean’s legs trembled and his head lolled back on Sam’s shoulder, but he shifted obediently, rousing himself to work Sam’s cock until the alpha was finally fully satisfied. 

“Not just yet.” Dean felt a gentle kiss against his temple as Sam wrapped his arms around him, supporting his weight easily. “I just want to hold you for a while, first,” he murmured drowsily, “feel us tied together.”

Dean grinned lazily. He felt comfortable and sated (for now) and fully content to lounge in Sam’s arms with Sam’s cock knotted balls-deep inside him. “Yeah… Gonna stay right here with you, Sam. Always.”


	16. Freed

“Breakfast is served,” Karen Singer announced brightly, and Dean didn’t have to be told twice. Sitting down at the table, he blinked in bemusement as Bobby slid a big slab of steak onto his plate. “Um, not to be rude, but that’s a little rare, isn’t it, Bobby?”

“Full moon in less than two days,” Bobby grunted cryptically, and in that moment the mouth-watering smell of the bloody t-bone hit Dean’s nostrils. 

He tore into the barely-cooked meat, suddenly ravenous, while Sam looked on, amusement and disgust warring clearly across his features. “Dude. Chew,” he admonished, as Bobby rolled his eyes and Karen smiled indulgently. 

“This tastes amazing,” Dean enthused between gigantic bites. 

Just then the short _whoop, whoop_ of a siren sounded in the driveway outside. “What the hell?” Bobby rose from his seat to peer out the window. “It’s Sheriff Mills.” They all filed outside to see Jody Mills beaming from her squad car, her young son Owen buckled in a car seat in the back seat with her broad-brimmed uniform hat perched on his head. Since in Dean’s own world Owen had come back as a zombie and killed Jody’s husband, Dean was more than happy to see the kid alive and well in Sam’s reality. “What the hell, Jody?” Bobby repeated. 

“Owen and I stopped by the post office on my way to work. My daycare plans fell through again,” Jody explained, her expression darkening for a moment, but then she brightened again. “They had this package for you, just came in from Japan.” She indicated a slim cardboard box covered with customs stamps on the seat beside her. Sam eagerly opened the passenger-side door to retrieve it. “Figured nobody’d mind too much if I commandeered it and delivered it in person.” 

“Thanks, Sheriff. We’ve been waiting on that… Full moon tomorrow night. How’s Owen holding up?” 

Dean looked closer at the little boy and saw the gleam of inhuman golden eyes from beneath the brim of Jody’s hat. Owen Mills was a werewolf, he realized, another pureblood born with the genetic mutation. So that was his medical condition… Better than whatever childhood ailment had ended his short life back in Dean’s own world. 

“He gets feisty, thus the latest preschool expulsion,” Jody said dryly as Owen grinned, unrepentant, showing miniature fangs. “But he’s doing well. Cutest little wolf pup you ever saw when he turns.” 

“Oh, Jody, let me keep him for you today,” Karen exclaimed. “It would be no trouble at all.” 

Dean felt his heart warm at the little exchange. Sheriff Mills’ family was intact. More and more, he was realizing that in many ways that demon had done him a favor when it pulled him into this world. He grinned at Owen as he leaned into the car and lifted the child out to join Karen and Bobby, tousling the little boy’s hair as he passed Jody back her hat. 

“Give him here, Dean,” Karen ordered as the sheriff’s car disappeared down the long driveway. “You, Sam, and Bobby have a curse to lift.” 

 

Bobby stirred the metal bowl full of foul-smelling potion as Sam added the final ingredient, drop by drop. Dean, completely out of his league in this unfamiliar universe where the rules of magic worked so differently, simply watched from a safe distance as the brew fizzed and hissed. He cradled his hand against his chest, the cursed silver ring pulsing agony up his arm with every beat of his heart. 

Sam was likewise holding his own arm gingerly, his forehead beaded with sweat as he worked on the counter-curse potion. Dean couldn’t help but drop his eyes to the huge bulge straining the front of his not-brother’s jeans, evidence of the strength of the mate-or-die curse, and his own rock-hard cock gave a lusty twitch in response to the sight in spite of the pain he was in. Dean never could decide which was worse, the agony of the ring, or the mindless, insatiable lust. They were long past the time they should have paused to appease the curse, but both Winchesters had silently agreed that enough was enough. With all the esoteric ingredients assembled, it was time to get those damned rings off.

“Let’s get those damned rings off,” Bobby said gruffly, echoing Dean’s unspoken thought. He poured the finished potion into two glasses and passed them out. “Bottoms up, boys.” 

“Dude…” Dean’s nose wrinkled involuntarily at the stench as he raised his glass. In addition to Bobby’s herbal ingredients the brew contained snails, puppy-dog’s tails, and ‘snips'. Sam had declined to elaborate on what exactly those were, assuring Dean he didn’t want to know, but Dean was fairly sure Sam had acquired those particular ingredients from a _mohel_. “That's beyond gross,” he concluded, but stoically gulped the potion down. 

“It’s working,” he choked out a moment later, still gagging at the taste, which had been even worse than the smell, but the pain was rapidly becoming nothing more than a memory. Dean watched Sam twist the silver ring off his finger and quickly followed suit. 

“Hurry, ya idjits, and drop ‘em in this bowl before you have to go through the whole ordeal again,” Bobby said, holding out a bowl of water, his hands protected with heavy oven mitts. Sam and Dean both dropped their rings into it and the two halves joined in a figure eight with a faint metallic click. Bobby recited an incantation that sounded like gibberish to Dean, but that obviously worked in this crazy, ass-backwards world, because the water in the bowl instantly boiled away to steam. The only thing left of the cursed rings was a lump of melted silver.

Sam’s smile was a strained shadow of his usual wicked grin. “We did it. You’re free.”

“We’re free, Sam,” Dean corrected, pulling him into a fierce hug. “And I’m not going anywhere,” he added a whispered promise in his mate’s ear. 

“You girls enjoy your moment. I got chores to do,” Bobby said, fishing the cooling piece of silver out of the bowl and tossing it from hand to hand as he left the room. 

Sam eased back a bit, his smile more relaxed now, but his golden eyes were still wary. “I think you might still be feeling a little of the aftereffects of that curse, Dean.”

Dean shrugged, easing his tight hold on Sam’s shoulders. “Maybe, but think about it, Sammy. We’re not brothers, I know that, but you have to admit, there’s a bond between us, has been from day one, even before the curse. And we’re both hunters,” he went on as Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah, I don’t always get how this bass-ackwards world of yours works, but I’ll learn. We make a damned good team. As far as everything else, the freaky werewolf mating thing…” He smirked. “If you’re nervous we can take it slow.”

Sam rolled his eyes at the teasing. He stepped back in, closing the space they’d opened up between them, and claimed Dean’s mouth in a hard, possessive kiss. 

Dean leaned into it eagerly, savoring the sweetness of an exchange driven by nothing more than attraction, not compelled by some damned curse. His cock sprang erect as Sam pulled him in snug against his body, but that, too, was normal, or as normal as you could consider a werewolf’s hyper-charged sex drive to be, and not that aching, mindless need. “So you’re okay with me sticking around for a while?” Dean grinned as they broke apart, both clearly aroused, but knowing they now had the option of delaying their sexual gratification. Which just made it hotter, as far as Dean was concerned. 

“Yeah, Dean, I think you ought to stick around...” 

**...**  

“...I’m just going to grab a quick shower,” Sam said casually later that evening. 

Dean stretched out across the double bed in the guest bedroom. “Take your time.” He stripped down and leaned back against the headboard, stroking his cock idly while Sam showered, anticipating a night of mind-blowing werewolf sex. Speaking of which, he was going to have to lay down some ground rules for tomorrow night’s full moon, he thought. Bottoming for his not-baby-brother was one thing...But not in wolf form, Dean decided firmly. Dean drew the line at bestiality. He began to drowse off as the sound of running water continued from the adjoining bathroom, and slid down to sprawl across the bed. That was okay, Dean thought sleepily. Sam never had any trouble waking him up... 

**...**

...Sunlight speared through the curtains when Dean finally woke the next morning. He dressed and padded down the stairs to find Jo Harvelle and an unfamiliar black woman sitting in Bobby’s living room. “Hey. You seen Sam?” he asked them, glad to see this world’s Jo still alive and apparently mated to a hot werewolf chick, but beginning to wonder where his annoying, unpredictable not-brother had wound up now. Sam wasn’t in the kitchen visible through the archway. 

“Sam’s here? His car’s not parked outside. You Dean?” Jo asked, nudging an envelope on the coffee table with her foot. 

Frowning, Dean picked it up. His name was written across it in Sam’s tidy script. He opened it and read. 

_Dear Dean,_

_Sorry to duck out without talking to you but I didn’t want to argue. Now that the curse is lifted you can go ahead and live a normal life like you’ve always wanted, well, as normal as it gets for our kind anyway. Don’t worry about me, and don’t worry about the Dark Moon Brotherhood. They won’t be a threat for much longer. I’m going to make sure of that. Go on and live that apple-pie life. You deserve it._

_Love,_

_Sam_

“Son of a bitch,” Dean erupted. Bobby walked into the room. Dean turned eyes on him that were already tinged with gold. “Bobby. I need to borrow a car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to follow soon. Less smut, okay, no smut, but more plot. And werewolf!Benny Lafitte. Need I say more?  
> Thank you to everyone for the kudos and comments. Hope to see you all for Road Trip!


End file.
